hope."

She had a colorless, cold voice and what was then known in London as
the "patrician manner." Her tone and silence seemed to say: "Please
remember this is all a matter of business and not a highly agreeable
business to me."

"Where is Margaret?" he asked.

"A long way from here. We shall meet her at The Ship and Anchor in
Gravesend. She will be making the journey by another road."

She had answered in a voice as cold as the day and in the manner of one
who had said quite enough.

"Where is Gravesend?"

"On the Thames near the sea," she answered briskly, as if in pity of
his ignorance.

He saw the plan now--an admirable plan. They were to meet near the
port of sailing and be married and go aboard the ship and away. It was
the plan of Margaret and much better than any he could have made, for
he knew little of London and its ports.

"Should I not take my baggage with me?"

"There is not time for that," the veiled lady answered. "We must make
haste. I have some clothes for you in a bag."

She pointed to a leathern case under the front seat.

He sat thinking of the cleverness of Margaret as they left the edge of
the city and hurried away on the east turnpike. A mist was coming up
from the sea. The air ahead had the color of a wool stack. They
stopped at an inn to feed and water the horses and went on in a dense
fog, which covered the hedge rows on either side and lay thick on the
earth so that the horses seemed to be wading in it. Their pace slowed
to a walk. From that time on, the road was like a long ford over which
they proceeded with caution, the driver now and then winding a horn.

Each sat quietly in a corner of the seat with a wall of cold fog
between them. The young man liked it better than the wall of mystery
through which he had been able to see the silent, veiled form beside
him.

"Do you have much weather like this?" he ventured to inquire by and by.

This answer came out of the bank of fog: "Yes," as if she would have
him understand that she was not being paid for conversation.

From that time forward they rode in a silence broken only by the
creaking of the coach and the sound of the horses' hoofs. Darkness had
fallen when they reached the little city of Gravesend. The Ship and
Anchor stood by the water's edge.

"You will please wait here," said the stern lady in a milder voice than
she had used before, as the coach drew up at the inn door, "I shall see
if she has come