Matilda appeared at this point to announce that the cab was at the door.
"Where is Phyllis?" cried Lucy. "I have not said good-bye to her."
"She went out two hours ago, miss," put in Mrs. Maryon, in her sad voice.
"No doubt," said Gertrude, "she has gone to Conny's. I think she goes there a great deal in these days."
Mrs. Maryon looked up quickly, then set about helping Matilda hoist the box on to the cab.
"How bitterly cold it is," cried Gertrude, with a shudder, as they crossed the threshold.
An orange-coloured fog hung in the air, congealed by the sudden change of temperature into a thick and palpable mass.
"I shouldn't be surprised if we had snow," observed Mrs. Maryon, shaking her head.
"Oh, how could Phyllis be so wicked as to go out?" cried Gertrude, as the cab drove off: "and her cough has been so troublesome lately."
"I think she has been looking more like her old self the last week or two," said Lucy; then added, "Do you know that Mr. Darrell is back? I forgot to tell you that I met him in Regent's Park the other day."