’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. "My worst fears are realized. Once she heard him mutter, and she leaned down. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. I came to London to look for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up with you. Wood struck me a blow which made me a robber. . . He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse.
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