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It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. McClintock will be tuning up the piano to-day. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. Sydney was watching her eagerly. “I have given her two days’ holiday,” Anna answered. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other.
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