ctice with a keen
relish for the obstacles to be overcome; on this morning, within half
an hour, his mood swung round to the other extreme, and, from now on,
his desire to see her again was a burning unrest, which roused him from
sleep, and drove him out, at odd hours, no matter what he was doing.
Moodily he scoured the streets round the Conservatorium, disconcerted
by his own folly, and pricked incessantly by the consciousness of time
wasted. A companion at his side might have dispelled the cobwebs; but
Dove, his only friend, he avoided, for the reason that Dove's unfailing
good spirits needed to be met with a similar mood. And as for speaking
of the matter, the mere thought of the detailed explanation that would
now be necessary, did he open his lips, filled him with dismay. When
four or five days had gone by in this manner, without result, he took
to hanging about, with other idlers, on the steps of the
Conservatorium, always hoping that she would suddenly emerge from the
doors behind him, or come towards him, a roll of music in her hand.

But she never came.

One afternoon, however, as he loitered there, he encountered his
acquaintance of the very first day. He recognised her while she was
still some distance off, by her peculiar springy gait; at each step,
she rose slightly on the front part of her foot, as if her heels were
on springs. As before, she was indifferently dressed; a small, close
hat came down over her face and hid her forehead; her skirt seemed
shrunken, and hung limp about her ankles, accentuating the straightness
of her figure. But below the brim of the hat her eyes were as bright as
ever, and took note of all that happened. On seeing Maurice, she
professed to remember him "perfectly," beginning to speak before she
had quite come up to him.

The following day they met once more at the same place. This time, she
raised her eyebrows.

"You here again?" she said.

She disappeared inside the building; but a few minutes later returned,
and said she was going for a walk: would he come, too?

He assented, with grateful surprise, and they set off together in the
direction of the woods, as briskly as though they were on an errand.
But when they had crossed the suspension-bridge and reached the quieter
paths that ran through the NONNE, they simultaneously slackened their
pace. The luxuriant undergrowth of shrub, which filled in, like
lacework, the spaces between the tree-trunks, was sprinkled with its