"Expect you'll bite my head off, but you've just got to put up with me!"
Out of the yellow fog—out of the chaotic nightmarish hubbub—a broad-shouldered figure, a gruff, sulky voice, suddenly became clear to her.
"Oh!" she gasped.
Ted took hold of her elbow and shouldered his way through the crowd. She submitted weakly, occupied chiefly in swallowing ignominious tears. She found herself being helped into a hansom. She heard him say, "Fuller's—Regent Street." Then he seated himself beside her.
"Is it—a station?" she asked.
"No. You're going to have some tea before you go home."
"Oh!"
There was a silence. She cudgelled dull brains for something to say, then having found it, turned it over and over in her mind, distrusting her voice, till it grew silly and meaningless, and she let it go. The silence got on her nerves; she almost began to laugh helplessly; she burst out in an odd voice:—
"W-what a funny action the horse has!"
"Took the first that came. Couldn't wait to pick and choose."