"The train crossed by a bridge of boats, and at first
sight it looked quite fine. But oh, in five minutes we had
seen the whole thing. The cathedral had been ruined,
absolutely ruined, by restoration; not an inch left of the
original structure. We wasted a whole day, and came across
the Wilcoxes as we were eating our sandwiches in the public
gardens. They too, poor things, had been taken in--they
were actually stopping at Speyer--and they rather liked
Helen insisting that they must fly with us to Heidelberg.
As a matter of fact, they did come on next day. We all took
some drives together. They knew us well enough to ask Helen
to come and see them--at least, I was asked too, but Tibby's
illness prevented me, so last Monday she went alone. That's
all. You know as much as I do now. It's a young man out
the unknown. She was to have come back Saturday, but put
off till Monday, perhaps on account of--I don't know.

She broke off, and listened to the sounds of a London
morning. Their house was in Wickham Place, and fairly
quiet, for a lofty promontory of buildings separated it from
the main thoroughfare. One had the sense of a backwater, or
rather of an estuary, whose waters flowed in from the
invisible sea, and ebbed into a profound silence while the
waves without were still beating. Though the promontory
consisted of flats--expensive, with cavernous entrance
halls, full of concierges and palms--it fulfilled its
purpose, and gained for the older houses opposite a certain
measure of peace. These, too, would be swept away in time,
and another promontory would rise upon their site, as