He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. He came along, he said, just to call, with large, loud apologies, radiantly kind and good. ‘You should not kiss me at all, and undoubtedly I should kill you. To have the present lengthen into years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, far lonelier than she had ever been. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. If only we are not divided. I love you—unendurably. She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. I bent over him. .
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