The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. ‘I do not know. ” Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the direct route to pass by the door of Anna’s flat. If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. ’ A radiant smile dawned.
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