THE   WINDOW
for example, to have paid the fare. As for her
little bag, might he not carry that? No, no, she
said, she always carried that herself. She did too.
Yes, he felt that in her. He felt many things,
something in particular that excited him and
disturbed him for reasons which he could not give.
He would like her to see him, gowned and hooded,
walking in a procession. A fellowship, a pro-
fessorship,—he felt capable of anything and saw
himself—but what was she looking at? At a man
pasting a bill. The vast flapping sheet flattened
itself out, and each shove of the brush revealed
fresh legs, hoops, horses, glistening reds and blues,
beautifully smooth, until half the wall was covered
with the advertisement of a circus; a hundred
horsemen, twenty performing seals, lions, tigers. . .
Craning forwards, for she was short-sighted, she
read out how it ... " will visit this town/' It
was terribly dangerous work for a one-armed man,
she exclaimed, to stand on top of a ladder like
that—his left arm had been cut off in a reaping
machine two years ago.
" Let us all go! " she cried, moving on, as if all
those riders and horses had filled her with child-
like exultation and made her forget her pity.
" Let's go," he said, repeating her words,
clicking them out, however, with a self-conscious-
ness that made her wince. " Let us go to the