“It is quite the cheapest place for what you want,” he replied. “But as you are so absolutely demoralised, here is another omnibus which will take you to Regent Circus.”
I got into this omnibus, bade George good-bye, and, as I drove away, felt that I had now really my fate in my own hands.
I had never been in London alone before, but I was glad to feel that my heart beat quite evenly, and that I was in no way unduly excited.
“It is quite plain to my mind, Rosamund Lindley,” I said, addressing myself, “that you were meant to be a man. You have the nerve, the calm which is generally reserved for the male sex. Here you are in great London, and your pulse doesn’t even flutter. Keep up your courage, Rosamund, and you will build the fortunes of your family.”
We reached the Circus; the omnibus conductor gave me some directions, and I walked up Oxford Street, stepping lightly, as the young and hopeful should.
I did not know my way beyond a certain point, but policemen directed me, and presently I found myself in an old square, and standing on the steps of a house whose windows were grimy with dust, and the old knocker of the ponderous hall-door rusty from want of use.
“My mother must be mistaken—Cousin Geoffrey must have moved from this house,” I said to myself.
Nevertheless, I raised the knocker, and made it sound sharply. In the course of a minute footsteps were heard in the tiled hall within. Some chains were withdrawn from the door, and a dreary-looking old man put his head out.
“Is Mr Rutherford at home?”
The old man opened the door an inch wider.