Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not at all sympathique. "Read the first chapter of Job"; beyond that, nothing. “Most of it is ugly and frowsy,” she declared, “but it isn’t worth talking about. Perhaps I deceived you about it. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other.
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