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He sat looking at her.
“I know what you mean,” he said at last. “Other women
have thought as you, but when one has been gliding downward
for a time one ceases to care about where to stop, as you call
it.” Stepping down from the wall, he went towards her and
took her hand:
“Jenny, you will stop now, will you not?”
She rose, smiling:
“For the present, anyway. I think I am cured for a long
time of that sort of thing.” She shook his hand firmly:
“Good-night; I’ll sit for you in the morning,” she said, going
down the stairs.
“All right, thanks.”
He remained on the roof for some time smoking, shivering
a little, and thinking, before going down to his room.
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