When she answered, it was upon another change of mood. The soft, dark
wings were fluttering again; and it was the banter of George's tone
that had recalled them. For this was an adventure--and she had not
known adventure for years; for these were flippant exchanges arising
out of gay young hearts, and they recalled memories of days when such
harmless bantering was of her normal life; for there had been sympathy
in George's stammering inquiries, and it recalled the time when she
lived amidst sympathy and amidst love.

The soft, dark wings fluttered again: "I am very grateful to you for
helping me," she told him. "You must not think me ungrateful; only, I
think you had better go. In my position I am not free to--to do as I
like, talk where I will. You understand?" Her voice trembled a little,
and she repeated: "You understand?"

George said, "I understand."



II.

And that was all that passed upon this meeting. A cab swung round the
opposite corner; pulled up with a rattle; turned towards them; was
alongside. Within, a brow of thunder sat.

The cabman called, "I knowed you was all right, miss," raised the
trap, and cheerfully repeated the information to his fare: "I knowed
she was all right, mum."

The mum addressed gave no congratulation to his prescience. He shut