"Thank you, Austin," he said simply, but with a ring of deep feeling in his voice. "You have been a true friend to us both, eh, Madge?" and he passed the hand on to her.
She took it and looked at the owner. Then suddenly she started and drew back. For a moment—in his secret exultation—Mr. Austin Ambrose had been off his guard, and there shone a light in his eyes that almost betrayed him.
It was gone in an instant, however, and with the pleasant, friendly smile, he pressed Margaret's hand.
"We mustn't try her too much, my dear Blair," he said. "It has been an exciting morning. Would you like to rest, or will you go on, Lady Leyton? There is just time to catch the train."
Margaret started. Lady Leyton!
Blair laughed.
"Margaret doesn't know her own name!" he said. "Which will you do, my lady?"
"Let us go on," she murmured, a desire that was almost absorbing possessed her—the longing to get rid of Mr. Austin Ambrose. It was very ungrateful, but so it was.
"All right," said Blair.
They walked to the station. As Austin Ambrose had said, there was just time to catch the down train to Devon, and in a few minutes it came puffing up.