When he bought that bag,
in the Burlington Arcade, it had been a bag like any other bag. But now
it had become part of her, individualized by her personality, a
mysterious and provocative bag. Everything she wore, down to her boots
and even her bootlaces so neatly threaded and knotted, was mysterious
and provocative. He examined her face. It was marvellously beautiful; it
was ordinary; it was marvellously beautiful. He knew her to the depths;
he did not know her at all; she was a chance acquaintance; she was a
complete stranger.
"How are you getting on with him? You know you really ought to tell me."
"Oh, George!" she said, earnestly vivacious. "You're wrong in thinking
he's not nice to me. He is He's quite forgiven me."
"Forgiven you!" George took her up. "I should like to know what he had
to forgive."
"Well," she murmured timorously. "You understand what I mean."
He drummed his elegant feet on the striated deck. Out of the corner of
his left eye he saw the mediaeval shape of the Tower rapidly
disappearing. In front were the variegated funnels and masts of fleets
gathered together in St. Katherine's Dock and London Dock. The steamer
gained speed as she headed from Cherry Gardens Pier towards the middle
of the river. She was a frail trifle compared with the big boats that
lined the wharves; but in herself she had size and irresistible force,
travelling quite smoothly over the short, riotous, sparkling waves which
her cut-water divided and spurned away on either side.
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