And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. The man could put a bullet through her before she could hope to reach any one of them. ’ He bowed slightly, and indicated the house behind them with a wave of his hand. “So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled. —Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less. “I suppose my levity is incorrigible. Will you lend me the money for my ticket to London?” “With all the pleasure in the world,” he answered heartily. He dined, and then pleaded a political engagement. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing.
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