Many times he brought himself all but to the point of mentioning it, yet his courage invariably failed.

The risk was too great; it needed such a trifling provocation to disturb Polly's good humour.

He perspired under the warmth of the night and from the tumult of his feelings.
"You mustn't meet me again for a week," said Polly when her dwelling was within sight.
"Why not ?" "Because I say so--that's enough, ain't it ?" "I say--Polly--" "I've told you you're not to say 'Polly,'" she interrupted archly.
"You're awfully good, you know--but I wish--" "What?
Never mind; tell me next time.

Ta-ta!" She ran off, and Christopher had no heart to detain her.

For five minutes he hung over the parapet at Westminster, watching the black flood and asking what was the use of life.