With all this, there was the thought of what she would step out and buy
for their supper, if the fried-fish shop were still open; all she would
do and say to cheer them.
As for Ben, the "Hammerclavier" was surging through his brain, carrying
the empty hall with it, those rows upon rows of empty seats--swinging
them to and fro so that he felt physically sick, as though he were at
sea.
Quite suddenly, as they got out of the last tram, the rain ceased. At
the worst it had been a mild night of velvety darkness and soft airs,
the reflection from the lamps swimming in a haze of gold across the wet
pavement; but now, just as they reached the end of his own street, the
black sky opened upon a wide sea of pinkish-amber and a full moon
sailed into sight. At the same moment, Ben's sense of anguished
bewilderment cleared away, leaving in its place a feeling of
incalculable weariness.
To be back in his own home again--that was all he asked. "You'll stay
the night at our place, Jenny?" "Yes; I promised your mother." Her brow
knitted, and then cleared again.
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