At last he heard the door of the premises close--the noise of it rattled in the street; then he turned and faced her as she came towards him.
Her head was down; her feet were moving quickly, tapping on the pavement.

He prepared himself to speak to her, his hand getting ready to lift his hat.

If she had given him half the encouragement that he imagined he required, he would have found courage; but without lifting her head, as though she were utterly unconscious of his presence, she hurried by in the direction of Bedford Street and the West.
Was that to be the end of it?
Had he waited that full quarter of an hour in the drizzling rain for nothing?
The man of fixed intent is hardly beaten so easily as that.

There was no definite evil purpose in his mind.

He was caught in that mood when a man must talk to some one, and a woman for preference.