mply could not realize
for a moment that it was indeed she who stood so close to him. The
cabman, leaving them to decide who had the prior claim upon him, sat
motionless, with his eyes discreetly fixed upon his horse's ears. It
was an odd little tableau, insignificant enough to a spectator, save,
perhaps, for the curious look in the woman's face and softly flashing
eyes. Yet it left its mark for ever in the lives of the two principal
figures.

The curious sensation which had kept Paul standing there dazed and
tongue-tied, passed away. Yet it did not immediately occur to him to
raise his hat and walk on, as in any ordinary case he would have done.
He was conscious of the exact nature of the situation, but he felt a
strong disinclination to leave the spot; nor, strangely enough, did
she seem to expect it. Yet something had to be done.

He moved a step nearer her. He was no schoolboy, this tall,
grave-looking young Englishman. The lines across his fair, smooth
forehead, and by his close-set mouth spoke for themselves. He had seen
life in many aspects, and in a certain Indian jungle village, there
were natives and coolies who still spoke admiringly of the wonderful
nerve and pluck of the English sahib during a terrible and unexpected
tiger rush. But at that moment his nerve seemed to have deserted him.
He could almost hear his heart beat as he took that step forward. He
had intended to have made some trifling apology, and to have handed
her into the cab, but the words would not come. Some instinct seemed
to revolt at the thought of uttering any such commonplacism. She was
standing on the edge of the pavement, close to the step, with her
skirts in one hand, slightly raised. He held out his hand to her in
silence.

She gave him hers; and yet she did not at once step into the cab.
She seemed to be expecting that little speech from him which he found
impossible to frame, and, seeing that it did not come, recognising,
perhaps, his suppressed agitation behind that calm, almost cold,
gravity of demeanour, she spoke to him.

"It is a shame to take your cab, and leave you in the rain! I am
sorry."

Afterwards her admirers spoke of her voice as being one of her chief
charms; to Paul it sounded like a soft strain of very sweet, throbbing
music, reaching him from some far distant world. Yet, curiously
enough, it went far to dissolve the spell which her presence seemed to
have laid upon him. He was able to look at her steadily, a