‘That is his affair, and mine; you had better leave it alone.’
We walked on again; past Chelsea Bridge, and along Grosvenor
Road. There was no parapet here, only railings, and the river
showed through the iron bars, with the lamplight on it. Across
the water, where the wharfs and warehouses are, there were more
lights, and a noise of hammering. A train went past with lighted
windows, across the railway bridge. I did not ask George to leave
me; I did not want him to go. Twice I looked round at him.
‘Why does he mind so much?’ I wondered. ‘It is wonderful to mind
so much about other people.’