Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. Leaning upon a gate he looked down into the valley. Ye gods! what a wilderness it is! Every one trying to get the better of every one, every one regardless of every one—it’s one of those days when every one bumps against you—every one pouring coal smoke into the air and making confusion worse confounded, motor omnibuses clattering and smelling, a horse down in the Tottenham Court Road, an old woman at the corner coughing dreadfully—all the painful sights of a great city, and here you come into it to take your chances. ’ You mean you hope you do, thought Gerald cynically. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. “Where are they?” She looked around.
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