Entranced, he stared at the name. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. ‘I broke in. Occasionally he relit his pipe. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames.
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