"What on earth made me ask her?"
"It's done now."
Maurice sighed. Then he caught her close again and breathless they sat till Jenny suddenly cried:
"Gee! Here's Hagworth Street. Goodnight!"
At the end of the road, under the tall plane tree where once Jenny had danced, they sat in the old hansom cab, while the steam rose in clouds from the horse and the puddles sang with rain and the driver smoked meditatively. The world was fading away in sounds of traffic very remote. The wetness of the night severed them from humanity. They needed no blue Pacific haven to enrich their love. They perceived no omen in the desolation of the London night.
"What times we shall have together," said Maurice.
"Shall we?" the girl replied.
"It's all happened so exactly right."
"It does sometimes," said Jenny.
The horse pawed the road, impatient of the loitering. The driver knocked out the ashes of his pipe on the roof.