useless. That idea of shutting herself in, and being driven away, had
now got full possession of her mind. She could think and talk of
nothing else.

We had hardly proceeded a third of the way down the Avenue Road when I
saw a cab draw up at a house a few doors below us, on the opposite side
of the way. A gentleman got out and let himself in at the garden door.
I hailed the cab, as the driver mounted the box again. When we crossed
the road, my companion's impatience increased to such an extent that
she almost forced me to run.

"It's so late," she said. "I am only in a hurry because it's so late."

"I can't take you, sir, if you're not going towards Tottenham Court
Road," said the driver civilly, when I opened the cab door. "My horse
is dead beat, and I can't get him no further than the stable."

"Yes, yes. That will do for me. I'm going that way--I'm going that
way." She spoke with breathless eagerness, and pressed by me into the
cab.

I had assured myself that the man was sober as well as civil before I
let her enter the vehicle. And now, when she was seated inside, I
entreated her to let me see her set down safely at her destination.

"No, no, no," she said vehemently. "I'm quite safe, and quite happy
now. If you are a gentleman, remember your promise. Let him drive on
till I stop him. Thank you--oh! thank you, thank you!"

My hand was on the cab door. She caught it in hers, kissed it, and
pushed it away. The cab drove off at the same moment--I started into
the road, with some vague idea of stopping it again, I hardly knew
why--hesitated from dread of frightening and distressing her--called,
at last, but not loudly enough to attract the driver's attention. The
sound of the wheels grew fainter in the distance--the cab melted into
the black shadows on the road--the woman in white was gone.

Ten minutes or more had passed. I was still on the same side of the
way; now mechanically walking forward a few paces; now stopping again
absently. At one moment I found myself doubting the reality of my own
adventure; at another I was perplexed and distressed by an uneasy sense
of having done wrong, which yet left me confusedly ignorant of how I
could have done right. I hardly knew where I was going, or what I
meant to do next; I was conscious of nothing but the confusion of my
own thoughts, when I was abruptly recalled to myself--awakened, I might
almost say--by the sound of rapidly approaching wheels