The stench is everywhere. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory. "I assure you, Sir, when I left him an hour ago, it was locked. She was wan and white. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. . The Procession to Tyburn. Gosse would have killed me, and perhaps in the fight I might kill him.
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