He did not want them he wanted only the material physical life
of the ordinary man. It must be because he was idling. He would get
work at once, join with some one in the City, go abroad again . . .
but perhaps even then he would not escape. Thoughts like those of
the last weeks did not depend for their urgency on place or time.
And Maggie, she was mixed up in it all. He was aware, as he
hesitated before opening the door, of the strangest feeling of
belonging to her, not love, nor passion, not sentiment even. Only as
though he had suddenly realised that with new perils he had received
also new protection.
He went upstairs with a feeling that he was on the eve of events
that would change his whole world.
As Martin climbed to the top of the black crooked staircase he was
conscious, as though it had been shown him in a vision, that he was
on the edge of some scene that might shape for him the whole course
of his future life. He had been aware, once or twice before, of such
a premonition, and, as with most men, half of him had rejected and
half of him received the warning. To-day, however, there were
reasons enough for thinking this no mere baseless superstition.
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