At this moment the sea was singing; this breeze, which swept the path of May, made foam flash upon the pebbled shore.

Sky and water met on that line of mystery; far away and beyond was the coast of France.
More quickly now.

Whither was she tending?
She had at first kept southwards, straight along Kennington Road; now she had crossed, and was turning into a street which might--only might--conduct her round into Brook Street.

Desire was in her feet; she could no longer check them; she must hasten on whithersoever they led.
Oh, why had she left the house! Why had Mrs.Grail--a cruel mother--bidden her go forth when her will was to stay, and work, and forget! Could she not stop, even now, and turn?
She stopped.

Was it likely that he would be there this morning?
No, not very likely.