They had both been playing the same game! He flushed up in that shady little street, in which he was the only person to be seen.

Cecilia was right! It was a sordid business.
A man more in touch with facts than Hilary would have had some mental pigeonhole into which to put an incident like this; but, being by profession concerned mainly with ideas and thoughts, he did not quite know where he was.

The habit of his mind precluded him from thinking very definitely on any subject except his literary work--precluded him especially in a matter of this sort, so inextricably entwined with that delicate, dim question, the impact of class on class.
Pondering deeply, he ascended the leafy lane that leads between high railings from Notting Hill to Kensington.
It was so far from traffic that every tree on either side was loud with the Spring songs of birds; the scent of running sap came forth shyly as the sun sank low.

Strange peace, strange feeling of old Mother Earth up there above the town; wild tunes, and the quiet sight of clouds.

Man in this lane might rest his troubled thoughts, and for a while trust the goodness of the Scheme that gave him birth, the beauty of each day, that laughs or broods itself into night.