Arrived in Paris she remembered that she had not the money for a fiacre. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. ‘No, I don’t see much future in pursuing her down this passage. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. ‘She’s little more than a schoolgirl, just out. “But that’s quite different,” replied Anna.
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