"How goes it?" he began, heartily. In a voice husky with suppressed despair, she answered. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. He came down the shop looking for her quite obviously, and took up a position on the other side against a mirror in which he was able to regard her steadfastly. “Since last night. In the mornings I find labour easy because I am going to see you.
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