AsthestreetsthatleadfromtheStrandtotheEmbankmentareverynarrow，itisbetternottowalkdownthemarm-in-arm。
Ifyoupersist，lawyers’clerkswillhavetomakeflyingleapsintothemud；youngladytypistswillhavetofidgetbehindyou。
InthestreetsofLondonwherebeautygoesunregarded，eccentricitymustpaythepenalty，anditisbetternottobeverytall，towearalongbluecloak，ortobeattheairwithyourlefthand。
OneafternooninthebeginningofOctoberwhenthetrafficwasbecomingbriskatallmanstrodealongtheedgeofthepavementwithaladyonhisarm。Angryglancesstruckupontheirbacks。
Thesmall，agitatedfigures——forincomparisonwiththiscouplemostpeoplelookedsmall——decoratedwithfountainpens，andburdenedwithdespatch-boxes，hadappointmentstokeep，anddrewaweeklysalary，sothattherewassomereasonfortheunfriendlystarewhichwasbestoweduponMr。Ambrose’sheightanduponMrs。Ambrose’scloak。
Butsomeenchantmenthadputbothmanandwomanbeyondthereachofmaliceandunpopularity。Inhisguessonemightguessfromthemovinglipsthatitwasthought；andinhersfromtheeyesfixedstonilystraightinfrontofheratalevelabovetheeyesofmostthatitwassorrow。
Itwasonlybyscorningallshemetthatshekeptherselffromtears，andthefrictionofpeoplebrushingpastherwasevidentlypainful。
AfterwatchingthetrafficontheEmbankmentforaminuteortwowithastoicalgazeshetwitchedherhusband’ssleeve，andtheycrossedbetweentheswiftdischargeofmotorcars。Whentheyweresafeonthefurtherside，shegentlywithdrewherarmfromhis，allowinghermouthatthesametimetorelax，totremble；thentearsrolleddown，andleaningherelbowsonthebalustrade，sheshieldedherfacefromthecurious。Mr。Ambroseattemptedconsolation；
hepattedhershoulder；butsheshowednosignsofadmittinghim，andfeelingitawkwardtostandbesideagriefthatwasgreaterthanhis，hecrossedhisarmsbehindhim，andtookaturnalongthepavement。
Theembankmentjutsoutinangleshereandthere，likepulpits；
insteadofpreachers，however，smallboysoccupythem，danglingstring，droppingpebbles，orlaunchingwadsofpaperforacruise。
Withtheirsharpeyeforeccentricity，theywereinclinedtothinkMr。Ambroseawful；butthequickestwittedcried“Bluebeard！“
ashepassed。Incasetheyshouldproceedtoteasehiswife，Mr。Ambroseflourishedhisstickatthem，uponwhichtheydecidedthathewasgrotesquemerely，andfourinsteadofonecried“Bluebeard！“inchorus。
AlthoughMrs。Ambrosestoodquitestill，muchlongerthanisnatural，thelittleboysletherbe。SomeoneisalwayslookingintotherivernearWaterlooBridge；acouplewillstandtheretalkingforhalfanhouronafineafternoon；mostpeople，walkingforpleasure，contemplateforthreeminutes；when，havingcomparedtheoccasionwithotheroccasions，ormadesomesentence，theypasson。SometimestheflatsandchurchesandhotelsofWestminsterareliketheoutlinesofConstantinopleinamist；sometimestheriverisanopulentpurple，sometimesmud-coloured，sometimessparklingbluelikethesea。
Itisalwaysworthwhiletolookdownandseewhatishappening。
Butthisladylookedneitherupnordown；theonlythingshehadseen，sinceshestoodthere，wasacirculariridescentpatchslowlyfloatingpastwithastrawinthemiddleofit。Thestrawandthepatchswamagainandagainbehindthetremulousmediumofagreatwellingtear，andthetearroseandfellanddroppedintotheriver。Thentherestruckcloseuponherears——
LarsPorsenaofClusiumBythenineGodsheswore——
andthenmorefaintly，asifthespeakerhadpassedheronhiswalk——
ThattheGreatHouseofTarquinShouldsufferwrongnomore。
Yes，sheknewshemustgobacktoallthat，butatpresentshemustweep。
Screeningherfaceshesobbedmoresteadilythanshehadyetdone，hershouldersrisingandfallingwithgreatregularity。Itwasthisfigurethatherhusbandsawwhen，havingreachedthepolishedSphinx，havingentangledhimselfwithamansellingpicturepostcards，heturned；
thestanzainstantlystopped。Hecameuptoher，laidhishandonhershoulder，andsaid，“Dearest。“Hisvoicewassupplicating。
Butsheshutherfaceawayfromhim，asmuchastosay，“Youcan’tpossiblyunderstand。“
Ashedidnotleaveher，however，shehadtowipehereyes，andtoraisethemtothelevelofthefactorychimneysontheotherbank。
ShesawalsothearchesofWaterlooBridgeandthecartsmovingacrossthem，likethelineofanimalsinashootinggallery。
Theywereseenblankly，buttoseeanythingwasofcoursetoendherweepingandbegintowalk。
“Iwouldratherwalk，“shesaid，herhusbandhavinghailedacabalreadyoccupiedbytwocitymen。
Thefixityofhermoodwasbrokenbytheactionofwalking。
Theshootingmotorcars，morelikespidersinthemoonthanterrestrialobjects，thethunderingdrays，thejinglinghansoms，andlittleblackbroughams，madeherthinkoftheworldshelivedin。
Somewhereupthereabovethepinnacleswherethesmokeroseinapointedhill，herchildrenwerenowaskingforher，andgettingasoothingreply。Asforthemassofstreets，squares，andpublicbuildingswhichpartedthem，sheonlyfeltatthismomenthowlittleLondonhaddonetomakeherloveit，althoughthirtyofherfortyyearshadbeenspentinastreet。Sheknewhowtoreadthepeoplewhowerepassingher；thereweretherichwhowererunningtoandfromeachothers’housesatthishour；therewerethebigotedworkersdrivinginastraightlinetotheiroffices；therewerethepoorwhowereunhappyandrightlymalignant。Already，thoughtherewassunlightinthehaze，tatteredoldmenandwomenwerenoddingofftosleepupontheseats。Whenonegaveupseeingthebeautythatclothedthings，thiswastheskeletonbeneath。
Afinerainnowmadeherstillmoredismal；vanswiththeoddnamesofthoseengagedinoddindustries——Sprules，ManufacturerofSaw-dust；Grabb，towhomnopieceofwastepapercomesamiss——
fellflatasabadjoke；boldlovers，shelteredbehindonecloak，seemedtohersordid，pasttheirpassion；theflowerwomen，acontentedcompany，whosetalkisalwaysworthhearing，weresoddenhags；
thered，yellow，andblueflowers，whoseheadswerepressedtogether，wouldnotblaze。Moreover，herhusbandwalkingwithaquickrhythmicstride，jerkinghisfreehandoccasionally，waseitheraVikingorastrickenNelson；thesea-gullshadchangedhisnote。
“Ridley，shallwedrive？Shallwedrive，Ridley？“
Mrs。Ambrosehadtospeaksharply；bythistimehewasfaraway。
Thecab，bytrottingsteadilyalongthesameroad，soonwithdrewthemfromtheWestEnd，andplungedthemintoLondon。Itappearedthatthiswasagreatmanufacturingplace，wherethepeoplewereengagedinmakingthings，asthoughtheWestEnd，withitselectriclamps，itsvastplate-glasswindowsallshiningyellow，itscarefully-finishedhouses，andtinylivefigurestrottingonthepavement，orbowledalongonwheelsintheroad，wasthefinishedwork。Itappearedtoheraverysmallbitofworkforsuchanenormousfactorytohavemade。Forsomereasonitappearedtoherasasmallgoldentasselontheedgeofavastblackcloak。
Observingthattheypassednootherhansomcab，butonlyvansandwaggons，andthatnotoneofthethousandmenandwomenshesawwaseitheragentlemanoralady，Mrs。Ambroseunderstoodthatafterallitistheordinarythingtobepoor，andthatLondonisthecityofinnumerablepoorpeople。StartledbythisdiscoveryandseeingherselfpacingacircleallthedaysofherliferoundPicadillyCircusshewasgreatlyrelievedtopassabuildingputupbytheLondonCountyCouncilforNightSchools。
“Lord，howgloomyitis！“herhusbandgroaned。“Poorcreatures！“
Whatwiththemiseryforherchildren，thepoor，andtherain，hermindwaslikeawoundexposedtodryintheair。
Atthispointthecabstopped，foritwasindangerofbeingcrushedlikeanegg-shell。ThewideEmbankmentwhichhadhadroomforcannonballsandsquadrons，hadnowshrunktoacobbledlanesteamingwithsmellsofmaltandoilandblockedbywaggons。
WhileherhusbandreadtheplacardspastedonthebrickannouncingthehoursatwhichcertainshipswouldsailforScotland，Mrs。Ambrosedidherbesttofindinformation。Fromaworldexclusivelyoccupiedinfeedingwaggonswithsacks，halfobliteratedtooinafineyellowfog，theygotneitherhelpnorattention。
Itseemedamiraclewhenanoldmanapproached，guessedtheircondition，andproposedtorowthemouttotheirshipinthelittleboatwhichhekeptmooredatthebottomofaflightofsteps。Withsomehesitationtheytrustedthemselvestohim，tooktheirplaces，andweresoonwavingupanddownuponthewater，Londonhavingshrunktotwolinesofbuildingsoneithersideofthem，squarebuildingsandoblongbuildingsplacedinrowslikeachild’savenueofbricks。
Theriver，whichhadacertainamountoftroubledyellowlightinit，ranwithgreatforce；bulkybargesfloateddownswiftlyescortedbytugs；
policeboatsshotpasteverything；thewindwentwiththecurrent。
Theopenrowing-boatinwhichtheysatbobbedandcurtseyedacrossthelineoftraffic。Inmid-streamtheoldmanstayedhishandsupontheoars，andasthewaterrushedpastthem，remarkedthatoncehehadtakenmanypassengersacross，wherenowhetookscarcelyany。
Heseemedtorecallanagewhenhisboat，mooredamongrushes，carrieddelicatefeetacrosstolawnsatRotherhithe。
“Theywantbridgesnow，“hesaid，indicatingthemonstrousoutlineoftheTowerBridge。MournfullyHelenregardedhim，whowasputtingwaterbetweenherandherchildren。Mournfullyshegazedattheshiptheywereapproaching；anchoredinthemiddleofthestreamtheycoulddimlyreadhername——_Euphrosyne_。
Verydimlyinthefallingdusktheycouldseethelinesoftherigging，themastsandthedarkflagwhichthebreezeblewoutsquarelybehind。
Asthelittleboatsidleduptothesteamer，andtheoldmanshippedhisoars，heremarkedoncemorepointingabove，thatshipsalltheworldoverflewthatflagthedaytheysailed。Inthemindsofboththepassengerstheblueflagappearedasinistertoken，andthisthemomentforpresentiments，butneverthelesstheyrose，gatheredtheirthingstogether，andclimbedondeck。
Downinthesaloonofherfather’sship，MissRachelVinrace，agedtwenty-four，stoodwaitingheruncleandauntnervously。
Tobeginwith，thoughnearlyrelated，shescarcelyrememberedthem；
togoonwith，theywereelderlypeople，andfinally，asherfather’sdaughtershemustbeinsomesortpreparedtoentertainthem。
Shelookedforwardtoseeingthemascivilisedpeoplegenerallylookforwardtothefirstsightofcivilisedpeople，asthoughtheywereofthenatureofanapproachingphysicaldiscomfort——
atightshoeoradraughtywindow。Shewasalreadyunnaturallybracedtoreceivethem。Assheoccupiedherselfinlayingforksseverelystraightbythesideofknives，sheheardaman’svoicesayinggloomily:
“Onadarknightonewouldfalldownthesestairsheadforemost，“
towhichawoman’svoiceadded，“Andbekilled。“
Asshespokethelastwordsthewomanstoodinthedoorway。Tall，large-eyed，drapedinpurpleshawls，Mrs。Ambrosewasromanticandbeautiful；
notperhapssympathetic，forhereyeslookedstraightandconsideredwhattheysaw。HerfacewasmuchwarmerthanaGreekface；ontheotherhanditwasmuchbolderthanthefaceoftheusualprettyEnglishwoman。
“Oh，Rachel，howd’youdo，“shesaid，shakinghands。
“Howareyou，dear，“saidMr。Ambrose，inclininghisforeheadtobekissed。Hisnieceinstinctivelylikedhisthinangularbody，andthebigheadwithitssweepingfeatures，andtheacute，innocenteyes。
“TellMr。Pepper，“Rachelbadetheservant。Husbandandwifethensatdownononesideofthetable，withtheirnieceoppositetothem。
“Myfathertoldmetobegin，“sheexplained。“Heisverybusywiththemen……YouknowMr。Pepper？“
Alittlemanwhowasbentassometreesarebyagaleononesideofthemhadslippedin。NoddingtoMr。Ambrose，heshookhandswithHelen。
“Draughts，“hesaid，erectingthecollarofhiscoat。
“Youarestillrheumatic？“askedHelen。Hervoicewaslowandseductive，thoughshespokeabsentlyenough，thesightoftownandriverbeingstillpresenttohermind。
“Oncerheumatic，alwaysrheumatic，Ifear，“hereplied。“Tosomeextentitdependsontheweather，thoughnotsomuchaspeopleareapttothink。“
“Onedoesnotdieofit，atanyrate，“saidHelen。
“Asageneralrule——no，“saidMr。Pepper。
“Soup，UncleRidley？“askedRachel。
“Thankyou，dear，“hesaid，and，asheheldhisplateout，sighedaudibly，“Ah！she’snotlikehermother。“HelenwasjusttoolateinthumpinghertumbleronthetabletopreventRachelfromhearing，andfromblushingscarletwithembarrassment。
“Thewayservantstreatflowers！“shesaidhastily。Shedrewagreenvasewithacrinkledliptowardsher，andbeganpullingoutthetightlittlechrysanthemums，whichshelaidonthetable-cloth，arrangingthemfastidiouslysidebyside。
Therewasapause。
“YouknewJenkinson，didn’tyou，Ambrose？“askedMr。Pepperacrossthetable。
“JenkinsonofPeterhouse？“
“He’sdead，“saidMr。Pepper。
“Ah，dear！——Iknewhim——agesago，“saidRidley。“Hewastheheroofthepuntaccident，youremember？Aqueercard。Marriedayoungwomanoutofatobacconist’s，andlivedintheFens——neverheardwhatbecameofhim。“
“Drink——drugs，“saidMr。Pepperwithsinisterconciseness。
“Heleftacommentary。Hopelessmuddle，I’mtold。“
“Themanhadreallygreatabilities，“saidRidley。
“HisintroductiontoJellabyholdsitsownstill，“wentonMr。Pepper，“whichissurprising，seeinghowtext-bookschange。“
“Therewasatheoryabouttheplanets，wasn’tthere？“askedRidley。
“Ascrewloosesomewhere，nodoubtofit，“saidMr。Pepper，shakinghishead。
Nowatremorranthroughthetable，andalightoutsideswerved。
Atthesametimeanelectricbellrangsharplyagainandagain。
“We’reoff，“saidRidley。
Aslightbutperceptiblewaveseemedtorollbeneaththefloor；
thenitsank；thenanothercame，moreperceptible。Lightsslidrightacrosstheuncurtainedwindow。Theshipgavealoudmelancholymoan。
“We’reoff！“saidMr。Pepper。Otherships，assadasshe，answeredheroutsideontheriver。Thechucklingandhissingofwatercouldbeplainlyheard，andtheshipheavedsothatthestewardbringingplateshadtobalancehimselfashedrewthecurtain。