“You have no right to do it, no right at all. Do you think I haven’t troubles and cares enough, without your adding to them by this insulting persecution?”
He drew himself up.
“I can scarcely argue the point here,” he said coldly.
“Of course not. Let me see.” She paused, and looked as it were stealthily out of both windows. He wondered whether she was looking for the man who had been speaking to her a moment before, the man who had beckoned her out of the tea-shop; and his absurd jealousy was roused again. “You had better come with me as far as Lady Jennings’,” she said coldly; “then you will perhaps be satisfied that, for the present, at least, you have no further need to play the spy.”
For a moment he hesitated, and then he accepted the invitation. At any rate, he could warn her of Lilian’s visit, and of the message she had brought. Inconsistent and even unwarrantable as he felt his partisanship of this girl to be, he was glad of the opportunity of putting her on her guard against further dangers.
He got inside the cab, and seated himself opposite to her.
They drove in silence for some minutes; then she turned to him fiercely—
“What made you come here? Did you follow me all the way from the tea-shop?”
“No. The girl brought out your cloak, which you had left on a chair, and I took it to Lady Jennings’. There, of course, I found that you had not come home, as you had said you were going to do.”
“I see. And what did you do next?”