Followed some few
minutes of sleep in which he dreamed that he saw. Then the procession of events
would repeat itself till he was utterly worn out and the brain took up its
everlasting consideration of Maisie and might-have-beens.
At the end of everything Mr. Beeton came to his room and volunteered to take
him out. "Not marketing this time, but we'll go into the Parks if you like."
"Be damned if I do," quoth Dick. "Keep to the streets and walk up and down. I
like to hear the people round me."
This was not altogether true. The blind in the first stages of their infirmity
dislike those who can move with a free stride and unlifted arms--but Dick had
no earthly desire to go to the Parks. Once and only once since Maisie had shut
her door he had gone there under Alf's charge. Alf forgot him and fished for
minnows in the Serpentine with some companions. After half an hour's waiting
Dick, almost weeping with rage and wrath, caught a passer-by, who introduced
him to a friendly policeman, who led him to a four-wheeler opposite the Albert
Hall. He never told Mr. Beeton of Alf's forgetfulness, but . . . this was not
the manner in which he was used to walk the Parks aforetime.
"What streets would you like to walk down, then?" said Mr.
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