Patches of blue showed in the west—clearing weather—but light rain still dappled the river. There was steady barge traffic. The boats of the watermen scooted back and forth carrying passengers between the public stairs at the bridges. South of the river in Lambeth and Southwark further east, rows of factory smokestacks and great construction cranes jutted into the sky. Vehicular traffic clattered in the road behind them. They neither heard nor saw anything but each other. “It’s goddamned insanity!” Matt cried. “My dear, that’s the fourth or fifth time you’ve used the same word. But it isn’t insanity. The marriage was a mistake.” Dolly seemed very tense, as if keeping her emotions under control only by the greatest effort. Raindrops showed as black dots on her dark green dress, and sparkled in the yellow curls over her ears. Despite the full cut of her skirt, her pregnancy was beginning to show. “I must be the one to call a halt because you won’t,” she continued.
