He lost sight of it.
"Well, what's your suggestion ?" she asked.
"That we should come back to Regent Street, sit and talk; we'll have our coffee there; I'll show you how to make it." He tried to run the whole sentence through.

Set it on its feet, and pushed it to the conclusion that it might seem natural, unpremeditated.

She saw nothing forced; but his ears burnt to the stumbling sounds.

The breath caught in his nostrils as he waited for her definite refusal.
"I think that would be lovely," she said with genuine interest.
He let the breath slowly free, checked, curbed, the bearing rein upon it all the way.

He imagined he had found country innocence in London, and for the moment stood aghast at it; could not see that it was her trust in him, blindly, implicitly placed, against all knowledge of the world.