Thump! a ball hit him right in the middle of his starched shirt front.
Like an infuriated wasp he rose from his seat to find the criminal; a
plain little girl's face laughed into his; a labourer in his Sunday
clothes and straw hat appeared, took her by the hand and smilingly
expressed a hope that the child had not hurt him; a laughing crowd of
soldiers and servant girls stared at him. He looked round for a
constable for he felt that his rights as a human being had been
encroached upon. But when he saw the constable in familiar conversation
with the child's mother, he dropped the idea of making a scene, went
straight to the nearest cab-stand, hired a cab, and told the driver
to drive him to the bookseller's; he could not bear to be alone any
longer.
In the safe shelter of the cab he took out his handkerchief and flicked
the dust from his shirt front.
He dismissed the cab in Goten Street, for he felt sure that he would
find his friend at home. But as he walked upstairs his assurance left
him. Supposing he were out after all!
He was out. Not one of the tenants was at home. His knock sounded
through an empty house; his footsteps re-echoed on the deserted
stairs.
When he was again in the street he was at a loss to know what to do.
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