There was no likelihood that Thyrza would pass.

If she did, if she were alone and saw him, he knew she would come up to him and speak.
The bell at Westminster struck out the hour of eight.

He turned off the Embankment and went on to Lambeth Bridge, stopping at length to lean on the parapet at the same place where Gilbert had stood and mused one night when his happiness was almost too great to bear.

To Egremont the darkening scene was in accord with the wearied misery which made his life one dull pain.

London lay beneath the night like a city of hopeless toil, of aimless conflict, of frustration and barrenness.