“I might have given him that half-a-crown,” he thought. “I could have done it.”

The incident taunted and teased his mind so unmercifully that it was not till he had left the train and was nearly at his own door that he could harden his heart against it.

“It’s just pure chance that I’m not in the same boat as that waiter,” he thought. “He’s got a look⁠ ⁠… it’s a different expression, but he’s got a look of that Waterloo-steps man!”

He rushed into the house, calling Gerda’s name in a low, eager voice. There was no answer. He went into the parlour, the kitchen, the backyard. He ran upstairs and looked into the bedroom. No one! The familiar furniture wore that peculiar air of desolation that of all things he especially disliked. The beauty of the day seemed to have completely passed it by. It looked cold and unhappy. It looked like a child that has been left indoors when all the world has been out at a festival.