It was a habit of his to talk to himself. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. Presently she became aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and glanced back to find Miss Klegg, a little out of breath, in pursuit. He feared to antagonize that distinguished person. “No. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. ‘And so?’ she asked. I have never in my life been so much puzzled by any one as by your sister. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live.
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