The company appeared to comprehend that there was a natural fitness in Hyacinth’s seeing the great lady on her way, and accordingly no effort was made to detain him. He guided her, with the help of an attendant illumination from Muniment, down the dusky staircase, and at the door of the house there was a renewed, brief leave-taking with their host, who, however, showed no signs of relenting or recanting in respect to the Princess’s invitation. The warm evening had by this time grown thick and the population of Audley Court appeared to be passing it for the most part in the open air. As Hyacinth assisted his companion to thread her way through groups of sprawling, chattering children, gossiping women with bare heads and babies at the breast and heavily-planted men smoking very bad pipes, it seemed to him that their project of exploring the slums was already in the way of execution. He said nothing till they gained the outer street, but then, pausing a moment, inquired how she would be conveyed. Had she a carriage somewhere or should he try and get a cab?
“A carriage, my dear fellow? For what do you take me? I won’t trouble you about a cab: I walk everywhere now.”
“But if I had not been here?”
“I should have gone alone”; and she smiled at him through the turbid twilight of Camberwell.
“And where, please, gracious heaven? I may at least have the honour of accompanying you.”
“Certainly, if you can walk so far.”
“So far as what, dear Princess?”
“As Madeira Crescent, Paddington.”
“Madeira Crescent, Paddington?” Hyacinth stared.
“That’s what I call it when I’m with people with whom I wish to be fine, as with you. I’ve taken a small house there.”