She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. From one window the beach was always visible; from another, the stores. Lord help him! he's the very image of his father. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. His voice now had lost its ironies. It dealt from floor to ceiling and end to end with the Theory of the Forms of Life; the very duster by the blackboard was there to do its share in that work, the very washers in the taps; the room was more simply concentrated in aim even than a church. Noiselessly, his booted feet stepping with careful restraint, he started forward, signalling to Roding to follow. He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read the agreement through to her. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. Voilà tout.
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