There was a pouring rain and a howling wind, but she walked the four miles to the station and sent him a wire telling him to meet her at the station in London. He received it just in time and was on the platform.
He took her in his arms and kissed her.
“What is the matter?”
“Did you get my letter?”
“No. But I knew. What is it?”
“I don’t know. My work, I think. I met Oliver last night. It upset me. But I wanted you for my work. It is like a knife stuck through my brain. I wanted to be with you, just to see you and to hear your voice. Nothing else. That part of me feels dead. . . . Oliver is living over the Pot-au-Feu, where Hetty Finch used to be. I wonder what’s become of her. I expect she has found a millionaire by now. . . . We’ll have the evening together. We’ll dine at the Pot-au-Feu. We might meet Oliver, but I can’t think of any other place.”
“We’ll dine with Clowes, if you like.”
“No; I want to go to the Pot-au-Feu.”
“Very well. Are you very tired? Your voice sounds tired.”