‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. She had a compartment to herself in the train from London to Morningside Park, and she sat with both her feet on the seat in an attitude that would certainly have distressed her mother to see, and horrified her grandmother beyond measure; she sat with her knees up to her chin and her hands clasped before them, and she was so lost in thought that she discovered with a start, from a lettered lamp, that she was at Morningside Park, and thought she was moving out of the station, whereas she was only moving in. Resolution, severity, subtlety, were required for it; and these were qualities which Jonathan possessed in an extraordinary degree. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. Eluding the blow, Jack plucked his sword from the scabbard, and a desperate conflict began. A door slammed.
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