On arriving in the Mall I found people standing along the open pavement in a lean, straggling line, despite the threatened deluge, I learnt that royalty were expected. Soon I heard a faint and far-off cheering. A policeman raised his arm; traffic drew up beside the curb. Just as I had caught the flash of Life Guards and the clatter of their accoutrements, a closed brougham reined in across my line of vision. With an exclamation of annoyance I was moving farther down the pavement, when a small gloved hand stretched out from the carriage-window and touched me. I turned sharply, and found myself gazing into Ruthita’s eyes. She signed to me to open the door. Before the coachman could notice who had entered, I was beside her. Clutching my arm, she leant out and ordered, “Drive to Pope Lane.”
CHAPTER IV—RUTHITA
We lay back against the cushions. We acted like conspirators—it was difficult to tell why. The surprise of meeting her thus suddenly had deprived me of words. It must have been the same with her; we clasped hands in silence.
“I had to see you—had to speak to you.”
She was panting—almost crying.
“Of course. Why not? It was foolish to go on the way we were going.”
“Yes, foolish and heartbreaking. It wasn’t as though we were wanting to do anything wicked—only to meet one another, as we used to.”
Her voice trailed off into a little shivering sob; she flickered her eye-lids to prevent the tears from gathering.