A closed cab stood near the fountain at the next corner. There was a
trunk on the box by the driver, and the roof was piled with bags and
rugs. He approached uncertainly.
"Is--is this--is it Lady Mount-Rhyswicke?" he stammered pitifully.
She opened the door.
"Yes. Will you get in? We'll just drive round the block if you don't
mind. I'll bring you back here in ten minutes." And when he had
tremulously complied, "_Avanti, cocchiere_," she called to the driver,
and the tired little cab-horse began to draw them slowly along the
deserted street.
Lady Mount-Rhyswicke maintained silence for a time, while her companion
waited, his heart pounding with dreadful apprehensions. Finally she gave
a short, hard laugh and said:
"I saw your face by the corner light. Been havin' a hard day of it?"
The fear of breaking down kept him from answering. He gulped painfully
once or twice, and turned his face away from her. Light enough from a
streetlamp shone in for her to see.
"I was rather afraid you'd refuse," she said seriously. "Really, I
wonder you were willin' to come!"
"I was--I was afraid not to.
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