Her aunts, Amy, Miss Pyncheon, Miss Avies, Thurston,
that strange girl at the meeting, with them all his destiny was
involved and they with his.
As the day advanced and the silver fog blew in little gusts about
the house, making now this corner now that obscure, drifting, so
that suddenly, when the door opened, the whole passage seemed full
of smoke, clearing, for a moment, in the street below, showing lamp-
posts and pavements and windows, and then blowing down again and
once more hiding the world, she felt, in spite of herself, that she
was playing a part in some malignant dream. "It can't be like this
really," she told herself. "If I were to go to tea now with Mrs.
Mark and sit in her pretty drawing-room and talk to that clergyman I
wouldn't believe a word of it." And yet it was true enough, her
share in it. As the afternoon advanced her sensations were very
similar to those that she had had when about to visit the St.
Dreot's dentist, a fearsome man with red hair and hands like a dog's
paws. She saw him now standing over her as she sat trembling in the
chair, a miserable little figure in a short untidy frock.
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