“I’ll turn you here. He bent over to Anna at once. She held out her arms to him and smiled. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. Can’t ask the gent to go abroad and condone a bigamy. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out.
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