The men looked at each other for a moment doubtful. Then Mike laughed.
"I hope I don't love her too much, that is all. But perhaps she will not come. Why is she standing there?"
"I should laugh if she turned on her heel and walked away right under your very nose."
A cloud passed over Mike's face.
"That's not possible," he said, and he raised the glass. "If I thought there was any chance of that I should go down to see her."
"You couldn't force her to come up. She seems to be admiring the view."
Then Lily left the embankment and turned towards the Temple.
"She is coming!" Mike cried, and laying down the opera-glass he took up the scent and squirted it about the room. "You won't make much noise, like a good fellow, will you? I shall tell her I am here alone."
"I shall make no noise—I shall finish my article. I am expecting
Lizzie about four; I will slip out and meet her in the street.
Good-bye."
Mike went to the head of the staircase, and looking down the prodigious height, he waited. It occurred to him that if he fell, the emparadised hour would be lost for ever. If she were to pass through the Temple without stopping at No. 2! The sound of little feet and the colour of a heliotrope skirt dispersed his fears, and he watched her growing larger as she mounted each flight of stairs; when she stopped to take breath, he thought of running down and carrying her up in his arms, but he did not move, and she did not see him until the last flight.