"And to-day I took a cab down to Camberwell, to a dreary row of drab,
mournful-looking houses, and all day long I have sat by her bedside
trying to cheer her. Ah! she is so ill, and so sad. Then on my return
I called at Scott's and bought these flowers for my darling, serious old
boy who has been working all day in his dreary office with its window
overlooking the dismal grey quadrangle. And I am so tired, and it was
not at all amusing for me without him."
The flowers smelt so sweet in front of me; and Ella was so sweet,
childlike and full of happiness, that I took her soft face between my
hands, as was my habit, and kissed her.
But later that evening, on going to her room alone to fetch something
for her, I noticed that her high-heeled French boots, thrown aside, as
she had cast them off, were unusually muddy, although, strangely enough,
it had been a dry day. I took them up, and upon examining the soles
found them caked with damp clay in which were embedded some blades of
grass.
I slowly descended the stairs engrossed by my own thoughts. Grass does
not grow in the streets of Camberwell.