ath of
evolution was unchangeably appointed. A harsh, callous philosophy.
Perhaps.

What impressed him, and possibly intimidated him beyond anything else
whatever, was the onset of the next generation. He thought of Queenie,
of Mr. Dialin, of Miss I-forget-your-name, of Lieutenant Molder. How
unconsciously sure of themselves and arrogant in their years! How
strong! How unapprehensive! (And yet he had just been taking credit
for his own freedom from apprehensiveness!) They were young--and he
was so no longer. Pooh! (A brave "pooh"!) He was wiser than they. He
had acquired the supreme and subtly enjoyable faculty, which they had
yet painfully to acquire, of nice, sure, discriminating, all-weighing
judgment ... Concepcion had divested herself of youth. And Christine,
since he knew her, had never had any youthfulness save the physical.
There were only these two.

Said a voice behind him:

"You dining here to-night?"

"I am."

"Shall we crack a bottle together?" (It was astonishing and deplorable
how cliches survived in the best clubs!)

"By all means."

The voice spoke lower:

"That Bollinger's all gone at last."

"You were fearing the worst the last time I saw you," said G.J.

"Auction afterwards?" the voice suggested.

"Afraid I can't," said G.J. after a moment's hesitation. "I shall have
to leave early."

Chapter 29

THE STREETS

After dinner G.J. walked a little eastwards from the club, and,
entering Leicester Square from the south, crossed it, and then turned
westwards again on the left side of the road leading to Piccadilly
Circus. It was about the time when Christine usually went from her
flat to her Promenade. Without admitting a definite resolve to see
Christine that evening he had said to himself that he would rather
like to see her, or that he wouldn't mind seeing her, and that he
might, if the mood took him, call at Cork Street and catch her before
she left. Having advanced thus far in the sketch of his intentions,
he had decided that it would be a pity not to take precautions to
encounter her in the street, assuming that she had already started but
had not reached the theatre. The chance of meeting her on her way
was exceedingly small; nevertheless he would not miss it. Hence his
roundabout route; and hence his selection of the chaste as against
the unchaste pavement of Coventry Street. He knew very little
of Christine's professional arrangements, but he did know, from
occasional r