ANGEL PAVEMENT

and, as people do, if they have drifted for a long time
and then suddenly come to a decision and adopted a
programme, he found himself visited obscurely by a con-
viction that something was bound to happen, just as if
by drawing a firm straight line he could compel circum-
stance to come and toe it.

The gas-fire retired from service with a very sad little
pop. He moved and the bed immediately gave a groan.
(Everything in the room creaked and groaned and con-
stantly complained. It was tired of people, that little
room,) Very carefully he raised the mattress and re-
placed the trousers underneath. Then, with something
like an air of sheer dandyism, he put out an absolutely
clean collar for the morning. He went to the little
dormer window and stared through the few inches of
open space at the dark and the faint glimmer of the
town. Here he was, high up above Camden Town, in
his own little room. There she was, Lena Golspie,
perhaps in her little room in Maida Vale, perhaps just
above those two pillars he had seen, peering through the
open gate, perhaps looking down on that broken statue
in the front garden. It made his eyes water, staring there
like that, but still he remained. His lips moved,
"Listen, Lena/' he began; but then stopped. "Listen,
Miss Golspie, Miss Lena Golspie. Listen. Do come to
the office, do come to the office. And make it something
I can do. Turgis, you know, the one you saw that day.
Do come to the office."

As soon as he stepped back into the little room, it told
him in its various creaky voices, not to be a damned
fool

"Oh!—you!" he said to it, aloud, and then made haste
to undress and get the light out.