That possibility to which he had looked forward, it seemed to him for years--that companionship, that intimacy with his fellow-lodger, that delightful acquaintance which was only to ripen at some far distant time, he could not exactly say when--behold, it had suddenly come to a head, here in this over-crowded, over-heated room, in the midst of all this feeding, surrounded by odors of hot dishes, accompanied by the sounds of incessant mastication.

How different he had imagined it would be! They were to be alone--he and Miss Baker--in the evening somewhere, withdrawn from the world, very quiet, very calm and peaceful.

Their talk was to be of their lives, their lost illusions, not of other people's children.
The two old people did not speak again.

They sat there side by side, nearer than they had ever been before, motionless, abstracted; their thoughts far away from that scene of feasting.

They were thinking of each other and they were conscious of it.