Justin came forward and said:
“You will let me see you safe to the place where you are going?”
“No, thank you,” she replied.
Justin argued, pleaded, insisted, but all to no purpose. And at last she said:
“Mr. Rosenthal, since you compel me to say it, your attendance would be an intrusion.”
“Then I have nothing more to urge, Miss Conyers. We will meet again.”
“‘At Philippi,’ ghost of Cæsar? Good-by, Mr. Rosenthal,” laughed Britomarte, waving her hand.
Justin bowed and left her, to enter the carriage where his party were waiting.
And Britomarte watched the carriage drive off and roll out of sight, and then she drew her black veil before her face, and walked on her way alone.