Passing the walled garden of the British Museum, he looked towards it--and paused.

What had stopped him, this time?
Nothing but a tree, fluttering its bright leaves in the faint summer air.
A marked change showed itself in his face.
The moment before he had been passing in review the curious little interruptions which had attended his walk, and had wondered humorously what would happen next.

Two women, meeting him, and seeing a smile on his lips, had said to each other, "There goes a happy man." If they had encountered him now, they might have reversed their opinion.

They would have seen a man thinking of something once dear to him, in the far and unforgotten past.
He crossed over the road to the side-street which faced the garden.

His head drooped; he moved mechanically.