It was only momentary. By the time he reached the cab door, flung it open, and held out his hand, she had drawn herself up, and it was a calm, dignified, graceful woman of the world who gave the trembling man her hand to help her to alight.
“Ah, Mr Stratton,” she said, and her voice thrilled him, “I did not expect to see you here. I hope you have quite recovered from your illness. Thanks. Mr Guest too. Yes, you may take my wrappers. Ah, there is aunt. Aunt dear, we have taken you quite by storm. Papa had letters yesterday which he said must be attended to personally at once. Can you take us in, or must we go to an hotel?”
This last in the hall, to which, trembling at the meeting, Aunt Rebecca had come down to embrace her nieces.
“Yes, yes, my dear; come in. So glad—so very glad. Mr Guest, would you mind—the cabman?”
She handed the young man her purse, but Myra checked her.
“No, no, aunt dear; papa did see to that. So kind of you to have old friends here as a surprise.”
“No, no, my dear, an accident; and—and—they were just going away.”
“Yes,” said Stratton in a strange voice as he held out his hand and gazed with agonised eyes wistfully in those which looked so calmly in his; “we were just going—Miss Jerrold.”
“Mrs Barron, Mr Stratton,” said Myra quietly, with just a suspicion of reproach in her voice, as she gave him her hand. “Papa was talking about you the other day. I am sure he will be glad to see old friends again.”
She turned from him and shook hands with Guest, while Edie, with tears in her eyes, approached Stratton.