again been on terms of cordiality.

So Hal was often Lorraine's companion for several nights, coming and
going as she fancied, always sure of a welcome. To her the flat was a
constant delight, and in the evening she loved to sit on the verandah
and watch the gliding river - not to sentimentalise and dream, but
because she loved London with all her heart and soul and strenght, and
to her the river was as the city's pulsing heart.

The moist freshness of the air coming across from Battersea Park was
only the more refreshing after Bloomsbury, and the vicinity of several
well-known names in the world of art and letters appealed porwerfully
to her imagination. Lorraine usually sat just inside the long French
window, taking care of her voice, and listening contentedly to Hal's
chatter.

They sat thus for a little while after their return from Cromwell Road,
and it was noticeable that Lorraine was even more silent than usual.
Hald told her something about each of their three hosts in turn, while
showing an unmistakable preference for the slum-worker and her cousin.
At last Lorraine interrupted her.

"Why do you say so little about Mr. Hermon?... you merely told me he
was a cricketer,which doesn't, as a matter of fact, describe him at
all."

Hal shrugged her shoulders.

"I suppose he doesn't interest me except in that way."