"James Stuart!" It was her old tone with him. For the moment both forgot the possible issue of this errand upon which they were going; only the vital relations at stake seemed involved.
"But—she knows," said Stuart very low.
"Of course she does."
By and by Stuart spoke again. "George, you were never quite so close to me as now."
She slipped her hand into his. "I'll stay close, dear; and I'll do all I can for you both."
This was all they said until the first lights of the great city, miles out, were flashing past them. Then it occurred to Georgiana to put a startled question:
"Jimps, have you any address to go to? There was none in my telegram."
"I know where they are staying." Stuart put his hand into his pocket and drew out a thick letter, upon which Georgiana recognized her cousin's handwriting. "This came only yesterday morning."
In spite of herself the girl felt a wild thrill of pain. Her chum—her chum! And it was the first time he had ever failed to be open with her.
As if he recognized that the sight of the letter had told even more plainly than words could have done, the degree of intercommunication between the two presumable lovers, Stuart said quickly: