ABSTRACT
Priscilla had lived through July, and now August had come. The city was hot and still and stifling. The trees bordering the streets were grey with dust; the people under them were grey too; their clothes shabbier and dirtier in the searching light of a glaring sun. Those who could escape had gone out of town; only the very poor and the very busy and the very hopeless passed along the streets. And London lay 78panting in the sun, in a gasping wretchedness that knew nothing of the airy promise of the spring. But Priscilla did not notice it. Her gaze was turned inward on her empty heart; she only felt that the city had grown suddenly empty.
