e banal, than this
part of their conversation. He certainly would call. He would travel
down to the idyllic Putney to-morrow. He could not lose such a friend,
such a balm, such a soft cushion, such a comprehending intelligence. He
would bit by bit become intimate with her, and perhaps ultimately he
might arrive at the stage of being able to tell her who he was with some
chance of being believed. Anyhow, when he did call--and he insisted to
himself that it should be extremely soon--he would try another plan with
her; he would carefully decide beforehand just what to say and how to
say it. This decision reconciled him somewhat to a temporary parting
from her.

So he paid the bill, under her sagacious, protesting eyes, and he
managed to conceal from those eyes the precise amount of the tip; and
then, at the cloak-room, he furtively gave sixpence to a fat and wealthy
man who had been watching over his hat and stick. (Highly curious, how
those common-sense orbs of hers made all such operations seem
excessively silly!) And at last they wandered, in silence, through the
corridors and antechambers that led to the courtyard entrance. And
through the glass portals Priam Farll had a momentary glimpse of the
reflection of light on a cabman's wet macintosh. It was raining. It was
raining very heavily indeed. All was dry under the glass-roofed
colonnades of the courtyard, but the rain rattled like kettledrums on
that glass, and the centre of the courtyard was a pond in which a few
hansoms were splashing about. Everything--the horses' coats, the
cabmen's hats and capes, and the cabmen's red faces, shone and streamed
in the torrential summer rain. It is said that geography makes history.
In England, and especially in London, weather makes a good deal of
history. Impossible to brave that rain, except under the severest
pressure of necessity! They were in shelter, and in shelter they must
remain.

He was glad, absurdly and splendidly glad.

"It can't last long," she said, looking up at the black sky, which
showed an edge towards the east.

"Suppose we go in again and have some tea?" he said.

Now they had barely concluded coffee. But she did not seem to mind.

"Well," she said, "it's always tea-time for _me_."

He saw a clock. "It's nearly four," he said.

Thus justified of the clock, in they went, and sat down in the same
seats which they had occupied at the commencement of the adventure in
the main lounge. Priam discovered a