she could see the outlines of the roofs opposite. It seemed to
her that for a long distance there was no sound at all: only there, all
the time, far behind all houses, somewhere buried in the heart of
London, there was the same unintermittent low growl. It was always in
her ears, even at night, like a sleepless pulse, beating steadily
through the silences.

Jenny was not happy. Her heart was cold. She continued to look from the
window, her face full of gravity. She was hearing again Keith's voice as
he planned their future; but she was not sanguine now. It all seemed too
far away, and so much had happened. So much had happened that seemed as
though it could never be realised, never be a part of memory at all, so
blank and sheer did it now stand, pressing upon her like overwhelming
darkness. She thought again of the bridge, and the striking hours; the
knock, the letter, the hurried ride; she remembered her supper and the
argument with Emmy; the argument with Alf; and her fleeting moods, so
many, so painful, during her time with Keith. To love, to be loved: that
was her sole commandment of life--how learned she knew not. To love and
to work she knew was the theory of Emmy. But how different they were,
how altogether unlike! Emmy with Alf; Jenny with Keith....

"Yes, but she's got what she wants," Jenny whispered in the darkness.
"That's what she wants. It wouldn't do for me. Only in this world you've
all got to have one pattern, whether it suits you or not. Else you're
not 'right.' 'They' don't like it. And I'm outside ... I'm a misfit. Eh,
well: it's no good whimpering about it. What must be, must; as they
say!"

Soberly she moved from the window and began to undress in the darkness,
stopping every now and then as if she were listening to that low humming
far beyond the houses, when the thought of unresting life made her heart
beat more quickly. Away there upon the black running current of the
river was Keith, on that tiny yacht so open upon the treacherous sea to
every kind of danger. And nothing between Keith and sudden, horrible
death but that wooden hulk and his own seamanship. She was Keith's: she
belonged to him; but he did not belong to her. To Keith she might, she
would give all, as she had done; but he would still be apart from her.
He might give his love, his care: but she knew that her pride and her
love must be the love and pride to submit--not Keith's. Away from him,
released from the spell, Jenny knew tha