“There are policemen—and buses. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. A new restlessness seemed to have stolen in upon her. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears.
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