She too at once developed an anxious interest in the street outside. Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. Montague Hill. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. Both McCloskeys disappeared on the same night, without a single trace. It was not only that her father had said all sorts of inconsistent and unreasonable things, but that by some incomprehensible infection she herself had replied in the same vein.
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