'If I were you,' said my friend, 'I wouldn't stand there any longer without a coat--I wouldn't really. You'll catch your death. Well, I'll be moving . . . ah!'
I felt his body warm with pleasure. He stepped forward. A pretty girl in a little fawncoloured hat came to meet him. They held hands. I heard her say: 'I'm terribly sorry, Alfred--truly, I am. There wasn't a 'bus--they were all full, even on top. I can tell you I was fussing--I knew how vexed you'd be. . . .'
They moved away, her hand through his arm.
And at that I cannot possibly convey to you how wretchedly desolate I felt. It swept down upon me, like a voice from heaven, that I was forever separated now from all mankind, ostracized, alone, abandoned. . . .
I cowered against the wall into the dark. They were going, those two,
