On a chill day in late October, Franklin Winslow Kane walked slowly down
a narrow street near Eaton Square examining the numbers on the doors as
he passed. He held his umbrella open over his shoulder, for propitiation
rather than for shelter, since the white fog had not yet formed into a
drizzle. His trousers were turned up, and his feet, wisely, for the
streets were wet and slimy, encased in neat galoshes. After a little
puzzling at the end of the street, where the numbers became confusing,
he found the house he sought on the other side--a narrow house, painted
grey, a shining knocker upon its bright green door, and rows of evenly
clipped box in each window. Franklin picked his way over the road and
rang the bell. This was his first stay in London since his departure
from Merriston in August. He had been in Oxford, in Cambridge, in
Birmingham, and Edinburgh. He had made friends and found many interests.
The sense of scientific links between his own country and England had
much enlarged his consciousness of world-citizenship. He had ceased
altogether to feel like a tourist, he had almost ceased to feel like an
alien; how could he feel so when he had come to know so many people who
had exactly his own interests? This wider scope of understanding
sympathy was the main enlargement that had come to him, at least it was
the main enlargement for his own consciousness. Another enlargement
there was, but it seemed purely personal and occupied his thoughts far
less.
He waited now upon the doorstep of old Miss Buchanan's London house, and
he had come there to call upon young Miss Buchanan. The memory of
Helen's unobtrusive, wonderfully understanding kindness to him during
his last days at Merriston, remained for him as the only bright spot in
a desolate blankness. He had not seen her again. She had been paying
visits, but she had written in return to a note of inquiry from
Cambridge, to say that she was settled, now, in London for a long time
and that she would be delighted to see him on the day he suggested--that
of his arrival in town.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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