"It is better not. Austin knows that you were the cause of my leaving
Paris. If you came, there might be some misunderstanding."
"I am not afraid of facing Austin."
"But I am afraid of any meeting between you. I cannot tell you where I am living, Mr. Fairfax."
"That seems rather hard upon me. But you will let me see you again, won't you, Clary? Meet me here to-morrow at dusk—say at six o'clock. Promise to do that, and I will let you off."
She hesitated, looking nervously to the right and left, like a hunted animal.
"Promise, Clary; it is not very much to ask."
"Very well, then, I promise. Only please let the man drive off to St.
Gudule, and pray don't follow me."
Mr. Fairfax grasped her hand. "Remember, you have promised," he said, and then gave the coachman his orders. And directly the fly containing Clarissa had rattled off, he ran to the nearest stand and chartered another.
"Drive to St. Gudule," he said to the man, "and when you see a carriage going that way, keep behind it, but not too near."
It happened, however, that the first driver had the best horse, and, being eager to earn his fare quickly, had deposited Clarissa in the Place Gudule before George Fairfax's charioteer could overtake him. She had her money ready to slip into the man's hand, and she ran across the square and into the narrow street where Austin lived, and vanished, before Mr. Fairfax turned the corner of the square.