"
"Where does he live?" said Cuckoo, ever so carelessly.
Julian gave the number in Harley Street rather abstractedly. Their
conversation had led him to think of the little doctor. Would he be glad
to see him again? And would Valentine? He tried to realize, and presently
understood, and had a moment of shame at his own feeling. Soon afterwards
he went away. That night, before she went to Piccadilly, Cuckoo walked
round to Harley Street. She wandered slowly down the long thoroughfare
and presently came to the doctor's house. There was a brass plate upon
the door. The light from a gas lamp, just lit, flickered upon it, and
Cuckoo, stopping, bent downwards and slowly read the printed name,
"Doctor Levillier." Did it look a nice name, a kind name? She considered
that question childishly, standing there alone. Then, without making up
her mind on the subject, she turned to go. As she did so she saw the tall
figure of a man motionless under the gas-lamp on the other side of the
street. He was evidently regarding her, and Cuckoo felt a sudden thrill
of terror as she recognized Valentine. They stood still on the two
pavements for a minute, looking across at one another. Cuckoo could only
see Valentine's face faintly, but she fancied it was angry and distorted,
and her terror grew.
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