The traffic below was insignificant, but the roar of Oxford Street, only a few yards distant, came to his ears even through the closed window.

He listened thoughtfully, and then, before he realized the course his thoughts were taking, he found himself thinking of Ruth.

In a certain sense he was superstitious about Ruth and her forebodings.
He found himself wondering what she would have said if she could have seen him there and known that it was Fenella who had brought him.

And he himself--what did he think of it?
A week ago, his life had been so commonplace that his head and his heart had ached with the monotony of it.

And now Fenella had come and had shown him already strange things.