Peter sat on, in a tumult.  He had been too busy all day to reflect much, but now just what he was about to do began to overwhelm him.  If Donovan met him with Julie?  Well, they could pretend they had just met, they could even part, and meet again.  Could they?  Would Donovan be deceived for a minute?  It seemed to him impossible.  And he might be staying there.  Suppose he met someone else.  Langton?  Sir Robert Doyle?  His late Vicar?  Hilda?  Mr. Lessing?  And Julie would have acquaintances too.  He shook himself mentally, and lit a cigarette.  Well, suppose they did; he was finished with them.  Finished?  Then, what lay ahead—­what, after this, if he were discovered?  And if he were not discovered?  God knew....

His mind took a new train of thought:  he was now just such a one as Donovan.  Or as Pennell.  As Langton?  He wasn’t sure; no, he thought not; Langton kept straight because he had a wife and kids.  He had a centre.  Donovan and Pennell had not, apparently.  Well, he, Peter Graham, would have a centre; he would marry Julie.  It would be heavenly.  They had not spoken of it, of course, that night of the dinner, but surely Julie would.  There could be no doubt after the week-end....  “I shan’t marry or be given in marriage,” she had said.  It was like her to speak so, but of course she didn’t mean it.  No, he would marry; and then?

He blew out smoke.  The Colonies, South Africa; he would get a job schoolmastering?  He hated the idea; it didn’t interest him.  A farm?  He knew nothing about it—­besides, one wanted capital.  What would he do?  What did he want to do? Want—­that was it; how did he want to spend his life?  Well, he wanted Julie; everything else would fit round her, everything else would be secondary beside her.  Of course.  And as he got old it would still be the same, though he could not imagine either of them old.  But still, when they did get old, his work would seem more important, and what was it to be?  Probably it would have to be schoolmastering.  Teaching Latin to little boys—­History, Geography, Mathematics.  He smiled ruefully; even factors worried him.  They would hardly want Latin and Greek much in the Colonies, either.  Perhaps at home; but would Julie stop at home?  What would Julie do?  He must ask her, sometime before Monday.  Not that night—­no, not that night....

He ground his cigarette into his cup, and pushed his hands into his pockets, his feet out before him.  That night!  He saw the sitting-room upstairs; they would go there first.  Then he would suggest a dinner to her, in Soho; he knew a place that Pennell had told him of, Bohemian, but one could take anyone—­at least, take Julie.  It would be jolly watching the people, and watching Julie.  He saw her, mentally, opposite him, and her eyes sparkling and alluring.  And afterwards, warmed and fed—­why, back to the hotel, to the sitting-room, by the fire.  They would have a little supper, and then....