Goring there, his head on
his hands. He sat motionless, hearing nothing but the humming silence of
the hot afternoon.

Milly, pressing back her tears, flew across the hall and up the stairs.
The vague nightmare thing that had lurked for her in the shadows of the
house, when she had descended them so quietly, had taken shape at last.
She knew now the unspeakable secret of the pink and gold bedroom, the
shabbily gorgeous bed, the posturing dancers, the simpering, tailored
noblemen. The atmosphere of it, scented and close, despite the open
window, seemed to take her by the throat. She dared not stop to think,
lest this sick despair, this loathing of herself, should master her. To
get home at once was her impulse, and she must do it before any one
could interfere.

It was a matter of a few seconds to find a hat, gloves, a parasol. She
noticed a purse in the pocket of her dress and counted the money in it.
There was not much, but enough to take her home, since she felt sure the
river shimmering over there was the Thames. She did not stay to change
her thin shoes, but flitted down the stairs and out under the portico,
as silent as a ghost. The drive curved through a shrubbery, and in a
minute she was out of sight of the house. She hurried past the lodge,
hesitating in which direction to turn, when a tradesman's cart drove
past. She asked the young man who was driving it her way to the station,
and he told her it was not very far, but that she could not catch the
next train to town if she meant to walk. He was going in that direction
himself and would give her a lift if she liked. She accepted the young
man's offer; but if he made it in order to beguile the tedium of his
way, he was disappointed.

The road was dusty and sunny, and this gave her a reason for opening her
large parasol. She cowered under it, hiding herself from the women who
rolled by in shiny carriages with high-stepping horses; not so much
because she feared she might meet acquaintances, as from an instinctive
desire to hide herself, a thing so shamed and everlastingly wretched,
from every human eye. And so it happened that, when she was close to the
station, she missed seeing and being seen by Tims, who was driving to
Mr. Goring's house in a hired trap which he had sent to meet her.

CHAPTER XXXII

Milly took a ticket for Paddington and hurried to the train, which was
waiting at the platform, choosing an empty compartment. Action had
temporarily