"Yes. Oh, Barbara!"
"My dear—I've been expecting to hear from you every day! I've been imagining all sorts of awful things. Why didn't you wire? Do come in—you must be dead, and have you been carrying that huge bag?"
"I came from the station in a cab."
"A cab!" echoed Barbara in rather a dismayed voice. "What a long way to come, when you could have done it so easily by the underground railway but I suppose you didn't know?"
"No," repeated Alex blankly. "I didn't know."
"What's he waiting for? Will he carry your trunk upstairs?"
"That is all the luggage I have, and I can carry it up quite well, and it isn't heavy. But I hadn't quite enough money for the fare—he ought to have another half-crown."
"Oh, dear," said Barbara. "Wait a minute, then, Alex."
She disappeared up the stairs, leaving Alex alone with the severe parlour-maid, who still held open the front door.
She leant against the wall in the tiny passage, wondering what she had expected of her actual arrival, that the reality should give her such a sense of misery.