. ’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. The old lady in the antimacassar said, abruptly, “Ah! you young people, you young people, if you only knew!” and then laughed and then mused in a marked manner; and the young man with the narrow forehead and glasses cleared his throat and asked the young man in the orange tie whether he believed that Platonic love was possible. ” “It is very hard to explain,” he answered. In the present instance she did not want any interference; she did not want the doctor's wisdom to edge in between these two young fools and spoil the drama.
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