“Go on!” shouted Philip, and flung the money into the road. He was frightened at the episode; the whole of life had become unreal. It was a relief to be out of the Siena gate. They drew up for a moment on the terrace. But there was no sign of Harriet. The driver called to the Dogana men. But they had seen no English lady pass.
“What am I to do?” he cried; “it is not like the lady to be late. We shall miss the train.”
“Let us drive slowly,” said the driver, “and you shall call her by name as we go.”
So they started down into the night, Philip calling “Harriet! Harriet! Harriet!” And there she was, waiting for them in the wet, at the first turn of the zigzag.
“Harriet, why don’t you answer?”
“I heard you coming,” said she, and got quickly in. Not till then did he see that she carried a bundle.
“What’s that?”
“Hush—”
“Whatever is that?”
“Hush—sleeping.”