He did not see it. He was just aware of a victoria coming down the middle of the street he was preparing to cross and of something fluttering, but that it concerned him he did not suspect.
Then suddenly the victoria, like a huge Jack-in-the-box, shot up a figure, and he recognized Mrs. Hawthorne standing at full height in the moving carriage, and waving both hands, as he must suppose, nobody else being near,–to him.
He lifted his hat. He saw her reach for the coachman and by touch make him aware that she wished to stop. The horses were pulled up. Mrs. Hawthorne, from the seat into which the jerk had thrown her, made beckoning signs to him, laughing the while, and calling, “Mr. Fane! Mr. Fane!”
He went to stand at the carriage-step.
“I thought,” said Mrs. Hawthorne, “that you were going to come and take us sight-seeing.”
“I thought I was,” said Gerald, with that scant smile of his; “but I was not so fortunate as to find you at home.”
It was true that he had gone to her door one afternoon, having previously caught a glimpse of her in the heart of the city, shopping.
“You mean to say you came?”
“You did not find my card?”
“No; but it’s all right. This is Miss Madison–Mr. Fane. We are together. What have you got to do?”