But one day he came to me. He turned in at the club. She wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check. They crossed the Park to the westward, and then turned back and walked round the circle about the Royal Botanical Gardens and then southwardly toward Waterloo. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. She could not feel her own body. But after that it was easy.
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