The period of repression was over. In all this world there was no sacred ground that said to her: Return! She was of all human beings the most lonely. The light touch of Ah Cum's hand upon her arm broke the thread of retrospective thought; and her gray eyes began to register again the things she saw. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. . When he comes he will do that raid of the pantechnicons the justice it deserves; he will picture the orderly evening scene about the Imperial Legislature in convincing detail, the coming and going of cabs and motor-cabs and broughams through the chill, damp evening into New Palace Yard, the reinforced but untroubled and unsuspecting police about the entries of those great buildings whose square and panelled Victorian Gothic streams up from the glare of the lamps into the murkiness of the night; Big Ben shining overhead, an unassailable beacon, and the incidental traffic of Westminster, cabs, carts, and glowing omnibuses going to and from the bridge. His eyes were red.
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