When he left the Athelnys’ Philip walked down Chancery Lane and along the Strand to get a ’bus at the top of Parliament Street.  One Sunday, when he had known them about six weeks, he did this as usual, but he found the Kennington ’bus full.  It was June, but it had rained during the day and the night was raw and cold.  He walked up to Piccadilly Circus in order to get a seat; the ’bus waited at the fountain, and when it arrived there seldom had more than two or three people in it.  This service ran every quarter of an hour, and he had some time to wait.  He looked idly at the crowd.  The public-houses were closing, and there were many people about.  His mind was busy with the ideas Athelny had the charming gift of suggesting.

Suddenly his heart stood still.  He saw Mildred.  He had not thought of her for weeks.  She was crossing over from the corner of Shaftesbury Avenue and stopped at the shelter till a string of cabs passed by.  She was watching her opportunity and had no eyes for anything else.  She wore a large black straw hat with a mass of feathers on it and a black silk dress; at that time it was fashionable for women to wear trains; the road was clear, and Mildred crossed, her skirt trailing on the ground, and walked down Piccadilly.  Philip, his heart beating excitedly, followed her.  He did not wish to speak to her, but he wondered where she was going at that hour; he wanted to get a look at her face.  She walked slowly along and turned down Air Street and so got through into Regent Street.  She walked up again towards the Circus.  Philip was puzzled.  He could not make out what she was doing.  Perhaps she was waiting for somebody, and he felt a great curiosity to know who it was.  She overtook a short man in a bowler hat, who was strolling very slowly in the same direction as herself; she gave him a sidelong glance as she passed.  She walked a few steps more till she came to Swan and Edgar’s, then stopped and waited, facing the road.  When the man came up she smiled.  The man stared at her for a moment, turned away his head, and sauntered on.  Then Philip understood.

He was overwhelmed with horror.  For a moment he felt such a weakness in his legs that he could hardly stand; then he walked after her quickly; he touched her on the arm.

“Mildred.”

She turned round with a violent start.  He thought that she reddened, but in the obscurity he could not see very well.  For a while they stood and looked at one another without speaking.  At last she said: 

“Fancy seeing you!”

He did not know what to answer; he was horribly shaken; and the phrases that chased one another through his brain seemed incredibly melodramatic.

“It’s awful,” he gasped, almost to himself.

She did not say anything more, she turned away from him, and looked down at the pavement.  He felt that his face was distorted with misery.

“Isn’t there anywhere we can go and talk?”