"No; the thing's certain now."
She sat down with a sigh of satisfaction, and passed her hand over her broad brow.
"Why did you do it?" Ruston repeated; and she laughed nervously.
"I hate going back," she said, twisting her hands in her lap.
He had asked her the question which she had been asking herself without response.
He sat down opposite her, flinging his soft cloth hat—for he had not been home since his arrival in London—on the table.
"What a bad hat!" said Mrs. Dennison, touching it with the end of a forefinger.
"It's done a journey through Omofaga."
"Ah!" she laughed gently. "Dear old hat!"
"Thanks to you, it'll do another soon."