Miss Fairbrother smiled, and George went on—
"I shouldn't think of asking if it were not quite possible to leave things; but, of course, if you think it inadvisable, I'll willingly——"
"Certainly not," said Miss Fairbrother. "Take the day by all means."
"Thank you," said George, politely. "Then in that case, as I know the river well, I'm sure you'll allow me to——"
Miss Fairbrother blushed and looked away.
"It's a comfortable boat," urged George, "and the trip is really splendid. My old landlady's son was the purser last year, and he used to say that they've cured more invalids on that trip than half the hospitals in London."
A smile broke out on Miss Fairbrother's face, and George immediately reached for his hat.
"Hansom?" he said.
"Please"—softly.
As they bowled along towards Westminster George Early sat upright in his seat, and replied to Miss Fairbrother's sallies with a brightness that surprised even himself. Something inside him seemed to be whispering that this was going to be a day of days—one of those bright periods when everything goes with a comfortable rattle, and you don't think, but know, there is going to be fireworks in the evening, although you haven't seen the programme. Poverty, crime, trouble, hardship, and everything ugly is deadened; you hear only the voice of your companion, see only the glint of the sunshine, the white frocks and clean collars, new houses and green trees. You start off with your machinery going at a gentle, thump-thump pace, like the steamer, and you keep it up while the day lasts.