James’ Park. He would write a letter to the Company about these things. The terms of his letter began to frame themselves in his mind⁠—conceived in the best Civil Service style: “It is evident⁠ ⁠… convenience of greatest number of passengers⁠ ⁠… revised program⁠ ⁠… facilities⁠ ⁠… volume of traffic⁠ ⁠…” The Putney train racketed away; Number 2 was an Ealing now. John edged up to the glaring bookstall and stood with a row of men staring idly at the dusty covers of old sevenpennies⁠—price two shillings. None of these men bought anything, only stood silent and gazed, as if in wonder at such a multitude of unbuyable books. On the cover of one of them⁠— Three Years with the Hapsburgs: The Thrilling Chronicle of an English Governess ⁠—the gaudy picture of a young woman caught his eye. It reminded him somehow of Emily Gaunt, and he turned away. He did not want to be reminded of Emily.