But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. Finally, at the exit into Regent’s Park, they ran against Miss Klegg. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. ” She said. ‘Must be still downstairs.
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