"Good-bye, grandma!" she said brokenly, as she clung to the old lady.
"Good-bye, Margaret, my dear! You will come again, and as soon as you can?"
"Yes," said Margaret, a lump rising in her throat. "Yes, I will come again—and soon."
But man proposes, and Providence disposes!
It was hot in London, and Margaret found her fellow-lodgers were away in the country, so that she had the rooms to herself.
She was thankful for their absence, for she would have shrunk from their affectionately close questioning, and they might have worried some hint of her secret from her.
An hour after her return a telegram arrived.
"Will you meet me at Waterloo at two o'clock? We will go up the river."
It was not signed, but Margaret knew that it was from Blair. Should she go?
She lay awake a long time that night asking herself the question, but at two o'clock the next day she found herself at Waterloo, and Austin Ambrose came up and raised his hat.