Outside the house they were free. It looked so close and dark behind them that Maggie shivered a little and put her arm through her uncle's.
"That's all right," he said, patting her hand. "We're going to enjoy ourselves."
She looked up and saw Martin Warlock facing her. The unexpected meeting held both of them silent for a moment. To her it seemed that he had risen out of the very stones of the pavement, at her bidding, to make her evening wonderful. He looked so strong, so square, so solid after the phantom imaginations of the house that she had left, that the sight of him was a step straight into the heart of comfort and reassurance.
"I was just coming," he said, looking at her, "to leave a note for Miss Cardinal—from my father—"
"She's in," Maggie said.
"Oh, it wasn't to bother her—only to leave the note. About some meeting, I think."
"We're just going out. This is my uncle—Mr. Warlock."
The two men shook hands.
Mathew Cardinal smiled. His eyes closed, his greeting had an urgency in it as though he had suddenly made some discovery that gratified and amused him. "Very glad to meet you—very glad, indeed, sir. Any friend of my niece's. I know your father, sir; know him and admire him."
They all turned down the street together. Uncle Mathew talked, and then, quite suddenly, stopping under a lamp-post as though within the circle of light his charm were stronger, he said: