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should sever me from London's ground。 I showed our tickets； and
bought a handful of red roses for her。 At last came the guards
crying： 〃Take your seats；〃 and I got in and closed the door on me。
We had； thank Heaven！ a compartment to ourselves。 I let down the
window and stared out。
There was a bustle of final adieux on the platform； a cry of 〃Stand
away； please； stand away！〃 and the train was gliding slowly and
smoothly out of the station。
I looked out upon the river as the train rumbled with slowly
gathering pace across the bridge； and the bobbing black heads of the
pedestrians in the footway； and the curve of the river and the
glowing great hotels； and the lights and reflections and blacknesses
of that old； familiar spectacle。 Then with a common thought； we
turned our eyes westward to where the pinnacles of Westminster and
the shining clock tower rose hard and clear against the still；
luminous sky。
〃They'll be in Committee on the Reformatory Bill to…night；〃 I said；
a little stupidly。
〃And so；〃 I added； 〃good…bye to London！〃
We said no more； but watched the south…side streets belowbright
gleams of lights and movement； and the dark； dim； monstrous shapes
of houses and factories。 We ran through Waterloo Station； London
Bridge； New Cross； St。 John's。 We said never a word。 It seemed to
me that for a time we had exhausted our emotions。 We had escaped；
we had cut our knot； we had accepted the last penalty of that
headlong return of mine from Chicago a year and a half ago。 That
was all settled。 That harvest of feelings we had reaped。 I thought
now only of London； of London as the symbol of all we were leaving
and all we had lost in the world。 I felt nothing now but an
enormous and overwhelming regret。 。 。 。
The train swayed and rattled on its way。 We ran through old
Bromstead； where once I had played with cities and armies on the
nursery floor。 The sprawling suburbs with their scattered lights
gave way to dim tree…set country under a cloud…veiled；
intermittently shining moon。 We passed Cardcaster Place。 Perhaps
old Wardingham； that pillar of the old Conservatives； was there；
fretting over his unsuccessful struggle with our young Toryism。
Little he recked of this new turn of the wheel and how it would
confirm his contempt of all our novelties。 Perhaps some faint
intimation drew him to the window to see behind the stems of the
young fir trees that bordered his domain； the little string of
lighted carriage windows gliding southward。 。 。 。
Suddenly I began to realise just what it was we were doing。
And now； indeed； I knew what London had been to me； London where I
had been born and educated； the slovenly mother of my mind and all
my ambitions； London and the empire！ It seemed to me we must be
going out to a world that was utterly empty。 All our significance
fell from usand before us was no meaning any more。 We were
leaving London； my hand； which had gripped so hungrily upon its
complex life； had been forced from it； my fingers left their hold。
That was over。 I should never have a voice in public affairs again。
The inexorable unwritten law which forbids overt scandal sentenced
me。 We were going out to a new life； a life that appeared in that
moment to be a mere shrivelled remnant of me； a mere residuum of
sheltering and feeding and seeing amidst alien scenery and the sound
of unfamiliar tongues。 We were going to live cheaply in a foreign
place； so cut off that I meet now the merest stray tourist； the
commonest tweed…clad stranger with a mixture of shyness and hunger。 。 。 。
And suddenly all the schemes I was leaving appeared fine and
adventurous and hopeful as they had never done before。 How great
was this purpose I had relinquished； this bold and subtle remaking
of the English will！ I had doubted so many things； and now suddenly
I doubted my unimportance； doubted my right to this suicidal
abandonment。 Was I not a trusted messenger； greatly trusted and
favoured； who had turned aside by the way？ Had I not； after all；
stood for far more than I had thought； was I not filching from that
dear great city of my birth and life； some vitally necessary thing；
a key； a link； a reconciling clue in her political development； that
now she might seek vaguely for in vain？ What is one life against
the State？ Ought I not to have sacrificed Isabel and all my passion
and sorrow for Isabel； and held to my thingstuck to my thing？
I heard as though he had spoken it in the carriage Britten's 〃It WAS
a good game。 No end of a game。 And for the first time I imagined
the faces and voices of Crupp and Esmeer and Gane when they learnt
of this secret flight； this flight of which they were quite
unwarned。 And Shoesmith might he there in the house；Shoesmith who
was to have been married in four daysthe thing might hit him full
in front of any kind of people。 Cruel eyes might watch him。 Why
the devil hadn't I written letters to warn them all？ I could have
posted them five minutes before the train started。 I had never
thought to that moment of the immense mess they would be in； how the
whole edifice would clatter about their ears。 I had a sudden desire
to stop the train and go back for a day； for two days； to set that
negligence right。 My brain for a moment brightened； became animated
and prolific of ideas。 I thought of a brilliant line we might have
taken on that confounded Reformatory Bill。 。 。 。
That sort of thing was over。 。 。 。
What indeed wasn't over？ I passed to a vaguer； more multitudinous
perception of disaster； the friends I had lost already since Altiora
began her campaign； the ampler remnant whom now I must lose。 I
thought of people I had been merry with； people I had worked with
and played with； the companions of talkative walks； the hostesses of
houses that had once glowed with welcome for us both。 I perceived
we must lose them all。 I saw life like a tree in late autumn that
had once been rich and splendid with friendsand now the last brave
dears would be hanging on doubtfully against the frosty chill of
facts； twisting and tortured in the universal gale of indignation；
trying to evade the cold blast of the truth。 I had betrayed my
party； my intimate friend； my wife； the wife whose devotion had made
me what I was。 For awhile the figure of Margaret； remote； wounded；
shamed； dominated my mind； and the thought of my immense
ingratitude。 Damn them！ they'd take it out of her too。 I had a
feeling that I wanted to go straight back and grip some one by the
throat； some one talking ill of Margaret。 They'd blame her for not
keeping me； for letting things go so far。 。 。 。 I wanted the whole
world to know how fine she was。 I saw in imagination the busy；
excited dinner tables at work upon us all； rather pleasantly
excited； brightly indignant； merciless。
Well； it'