The next morning was bright with sunshine; the frost had broken, and the streets were beginning to be muddy. Richard went out, his mind empty, and dully dejected. At Sloane Street he mounted a bus, taking the one vacant front seat on the top. For a little while he stared absently at the handle of his stick. Presently a chance movement of the head made him aware that someone's eyes were upon him. He looked round. In the far corner of the seat opposite was Miss Roberts. She hesitated, flushing, and then bowed, and he responded. No further communications were possible just then (and for this, at the moment, he felt thankful), because they were separated by two young gentlemen wearing tweed caps, and collars which might have been clean once, who were arguing briskly over a copy of the "Sportsman."  
For some strange reason of diffidence, Richard had not been to the Crabtree since his visit there with Adeline. He was sardonically¹ in search of his motive² for staying away when the young gentlemen with the "Sportsman" left the bus. Miss Roberts grew rosy³ as he got up and offered her his hand, at the same time seating himself by her side. She wore a black jacket and skirt, well worn but in good preservation⁴, a hat with red flowers, and grey woollen gloves; and any person of ordinary discernment would have guessed her occupation without a great deal of difficulty. During the last year she had become stouter⁵, and her figure was now full rather than slender; her features, especially the nostrils⁶, mouth, and chin, were somewhat heavy, but she had prettily⁷ shaped ears, and her eyes, of no definable tint⁸, were soft and tender; her reddish-brown hair was as conspicuous⁹ and as splendid as ever, coiled with tight precision at the back of her head, and escaping here and there above her ears in tiny flying wisps. The expression of her face was mainly one of amiability¹⁰, but passive, animal-like, inert¹¹; she seemed full of good-nature.
 
"We haven't seen you at the Crabtree, lately," she said.
 
"You are still at the old place, then?"
 
"Oh, yes; and shall be, I expect. They've taken another floor now, and we're the biggest vegetarian¹² restaurant in London."
 
There was a note of timid agitation¹³ in her voice, and he noticed besides that her cheeks were red and her eyes shone. Could it be that this encounter had given her pleasure? The idea of such a possibility afforded him secret delight.... She, a breathing woman, glad to see him! He wondered what the other people on the bus were thinking of them, and especially what the driver thought; the driver had happened to catch sight of them when they were shaking hands, and as Richard examined the contour of the man's rubicund¹⁴ face, he fancied he saw there a glimmer¹⁵ of a smile. This was during a little pause in the conversation.
 
"And how have you spent Christmas?" It was Richard's question.
 
"At home," she answered simply, "with father and mother. My married sister and her husband came over for the day."
 
"And I spent mine all alone," he said ruefully. "No friends, no pudding, no nothing."
 
She looked at him compassionately¹⁷.
 
"I suppose you live in rooms? It must be very lonely."
 
"Oh!" he returned lightly, yet seizing with eager satisfaction the sympathy she offered, "it's nothing when you're used to it. This makes my third Christmas in London, and none of them has been particularly uproarious. Fortunately there was the skating this year. I was on the Serpentine¹⁸ nearly all day."
 
 
Then she asked him if skating was easy to learn, because she had been wanting to try for years, but had never had opportunity. He answered that it was quite easy, if one were not afraid.
 
"I'm going your way," he said, as they both got off at Piccadilly Circus, and they walked along Coventry Street together. The talk flagged; to rouse it Richard questioned her about the routine of the restaurant,—a subject on which she spoke¹⁹ readily, and with a certain sense of humour. When they reached the Crabtree,—
 
"Why, it's been painted!" Richard exclaimed. "It looks very swagger, indeed, now."
 
"Yes, my! doesn't it? And it's beautiful inside, too. You must come in sometime."
 
"I will," he said with emphasis.
 
She shook his hand quite vigorously, and their eyes met with a curious questioning gaze. He smiled to himself as he walked down Chandos Street; his dejection had mysteriously vanished, and he even experienced a certain uplifting of spirit. It occurred to him that he had never at all understood Miss Roberts before. How different she was outside the restaurant! Should he go to the Crabtree for lunch that day, or should he allow a day or two to elapse? He decidedly prudently²⁰ to wait.
 
He debated whether he should mention the meeting to Jenkins, and said on the whole that he would not do so. But he found Jenkins surprisingly urbane²¹, and without conscious volition

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