Simonetta looked up solicitously at her mistress. "And the signora?" she hazarded. "She is not tired?"
Clodagh smiled a little absently.
"Oh no, Simonetta! You must not trouble about me. I have come home, you know!" She gave a little laugh. "But we must not delay," she added. "Have you the keys of all the boxes?"
"Yes, signora."
"Then you can see to the examining of the luggage. When it is done, this porter will put you into a cab. I have given him the address."
"Yes, signora."
"Then I shall see you at the flat?"
"Yes, signora."
Clodagh smiled again; and, turning away, wended her way through the crowd of passengers surrounded by eager relatives and friends.
Reaching the courtyard of the station, she unostentatiously hailed a hansom, and, having given her new address to the cabman, took her seat. A moment later, the cab swung out into London—became one with the concourse of traffic that, in the season, seems to overflow the streets. For the instant Clodagh felt herself merged in the teeming life, which the open doors of the vehicle permitted to approach so nearly; for the instant she stifled the sense of isolation that had been slowly gathering force. And, leaning forward in her seat, fixed her attention upon the passing scene.