He dozed for an hour or two.

Whilst he was at breakfast a letter arrived for him. He did not know
the handwriting on the envelope, but it must be Eve's. Yes. She
wrote a couple of lines: "I will be at the station to-morrow at a
quarter to eleven.--E. M."



CHAPTER XIV


One travelling bag was all he carried. Some purchases that he had
made in London--especially the great work on French cathedrals--
were already despatched to Birmingham, to lie in the care of Robert
Narramore.

He reached Charing Cross half an hour before train-time, and waited
at the entrance. Several cabs that drove up stirred his expectation
only to disappoint him. He was again in an anguish of fear lest Eve
should not come. A cab arrived, with two boxes of modest appearance.
He stepped forward and saw the girls' faces.

Between him and Eve not a word passed. They avoided each other's
look. Patty, excited and confused, shook hands with him.

"Go on to the platform," he said. "I'll see after everything. This
is all the luggage?"

"Yes. One box is mine, and one Eve's. I had to face it out with the