I could have a home there if I wished to go back to it." He looked at her in a little amazement.

"I suppose I don't understand women," he said genuinely.
She looked up into his uninteresting face--the weak, protruding lower lip, the drooping moustache that hung on to it--then she smiled.
"I suppose, really, you don't," she agreed.

"I think we'll go back; I'm getting cold." They walked back silently together, all the night sounds of the river soothing to her ears, jarring to his.

A train rushed by, thundering over the bridge from Gunnersbury way; he looked at it, frowning, waiting for the noise to cease; she watched it contentedly, thinking that it had come from the Temple where Traill was a barrister-at-law.
"Then I suppose it's no good my saying any more," said Mr.Arthur, as he stood at the door with his latch-key ready in the lock.

He waited for her answer before he turned it.
"No, no good," she replied gently; "I'm so sorry, but it isn't.