f the nature of possession. It was also an assurance of her
forgiveness, if indeed she had anything to forgive. He had not wronged
her; it was the other Lucia he had wronged. In all this he never once
thought of her as his inspiration. She would not have desired him to
think of her so, being both too humble and too proud to claim any part
in the genius she divined. But she could not repudiate all connection
with it, because it was in the moments when his genius was most
dominant that he had this untroubled assurance of her presence.

And there in the Secret Chamber he bound her to him by an
indestructible chain, the chain of the Nine and Twenty Sonnets.

The question was what should he do with it now that it was made? To
dedicate twenty-nine sonnets to Lucia was one thing, to print them was
another. If it was inevitable that he should thus reveal himself after
the manner of poets, it was also inevitable that she should regard a
public declaration as an insult rather than an honour. And he himself
shrank from exposing so sacred a thing to the pollution and violence
of publicity. Therefore he took each sonnet as it was written, and hid
it in a drawer. But he was not without prescience of their ultimate
value, and after all this method of disposal seemed to him somehow
unsatisfactory. So he determined that he would leave the manuscript to
Lucia in his will, to be afterwards dealt with as she judged best,
whether she chose to publish or to burn. In the former case the
proceeds might be regarded as partial payment of a debt.

And so two years passed and it was Spring again.

CHAPTER XLV

There are many ways of achieving distinction, but few are more
effectual than a steady habit of punctuality. By this you may shine
even in the appalling gloom of the underground railway. Among all the
women who wait every morning for the City trains at Gower Street
Station, there was none more conspicuously punctual than Miss Flossie
Walker. The early clerk who travelled citywards was always sure of
seeing that little figure on the same spot at the same moment,
provided he himself were punctual and kept a sharp look-out. This you
may be sure he took good care to do. To look at Flossie once was to
look again and yet again. And he was fortunate indeed if his route lay
between Moorgate Street Station and the Bank, for then he had the
pleasure of seeing her sharply threading her way among the traffic, if
that can be said of anythi