After dinner she sat down and wrote it, pausing many times to consider
a phrase.
Then she read a little, and soon after ten went upstairs to bed.
III
It was a little before sunset on that day that Mr. James Morton turned
down on to the Embankment to walk up to the Westminster underground to
take him home. He was a great man on physical exercise, and it was a
matter of principle with him to live far from his work. As he came
down the little passage he found his friend waiting for him, and
together they turned up towards where in the distance the Westminster
towers rose high and blue against the evening sky.
"Well?" said the old man.
Mr. Morton looked at him with a humorous eye.
"You are a hopeless case," he said.
"Kindly tell me what you noticed."
"My dear man," he said, "there's absolutely nothing to say. I did
exactly what you said: I hardly spoke to him at all: I watched him
very carefully indeed. I really can't go on doing that day after day.
I've got my own work to do. It's the most utter bunkum I ever--"
"Tell me anything odd that you saw."
"There was nothing odd at all, except that the boy looked tired, as
you saw for yourself this morning.
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