Ennison seemed to feel already the shadow of tragedy approaching. It rained heavily all day, so he did not stir forth. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. Her cheeks were aflame. 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 let out a wail. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. She explained she was expecting an important interview, and asked that her visitor should be duly shown in. Wood, who maintained stoutly, that if Thames had been led to do wrong, it must be through the instrumentality of his worthless companion.
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