He takes his hands from his ears, and with a sigh gets up and walks away, he cares not whither.
His steps lead him round the park and into the long avenue.

The rain and the wind are dying down, and already a few wayfarers, surprised by the sudden storm, are emerging from their shelters and speeding home.
The park-keeper boldly parades the path in his waterproof, as if he had braved the elements since daybreak.

A nursemaid draws out her perambulator from under the trees and hastens with it and its wailing occupant nursery-wards.

And there, coming to meet him, sheltered under one umbrella, are two who perhaps have no grudge against the storm for detaining them in their walk that afternoon.
It is long since Jeffreys has seen anything to remind him of the world he has left, but there is something about these two as they advance towards him, their faces hidden by the umbrella, which attracts him.
The youth is slim and well-dressed, and holds himself well; his companion's figure reminds him of a form he knew--can it be only six months ago ?--light, gentle, courageous, beside which he has walked in the Wildtree Park and on the London pavements.

Ah, how changed now! Where, he wonders, is _she_ now?
and what is she thinking of him, if she thinks of him at all?
They meet--the tramp and the young couple.