‘Certainly I can prove it. “If you cannot listen to me now it must remain undelivered. Gerald switched to French. These joyful bounds just lace into the stuff of my memories and stay there forever. The weed was all right. Ye gods! what a wilderness it is! Every one trying to get the better of every one, every one regardless of every one—it’s one of those days when every one bumps against you—every one pouring coal smoke into the air and making confusion worse confounded, motor omnibuses clattering and smelling, a horse down in the Tottenham Court Road, an old woman at the corner coughing dreadfully—all the painful sights of a great city, and here you come into it to take your chances. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains.
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