But immediately the whole scene in the Strand wore that curious look of order and purpose which is imparted to the most heterogeneous things when music sounds; and so pleasant was this impression that he was very glad that he had not stopped her, after all.

It grew slowly fainter, but lasted until he stood outside the barrister's chambers.
When his interview with the barrister was over, it was too late to go back to the office.

His sight of Katharine had put him queerly out of tune for a domestic evening.

Where should he go?
To walk through the streets of London until he came to Katharine's house, to look up at the windows and fancy her within, seemed to him possible for a moment; and then he rejected the plan almost with a blush as, with a curious division of consciousness, one plucks a flower sentimentally and throws it away, with a blush, when it is actually picked.

No, he would go and see Mary Datchet.