Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. Arrived in England, she had sought out Gosse, to keep an eye on his activities and thus keep one step ahead of him, meanwhile hoping that she might find herself another means of proof at Remenham House. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. The house was invisible from the road, and yet enormous once within view. Gerald perhaps would know how to find him. “One can’t tell. Practically.
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