At the bottom of the street they got into a hackney coach. Susannah gave the address, after that they could neither of them speak; they held each other's hand and looked out of the window at the long familiar and now horribly distorted street, at the little trivial sights and objects, once pleasant and now terrible, that they passed.
At the corner of Panton Square they stopped the hackney and alighted.
It was Susannah again who paid the man and dismissed him.
"Have you," she asked, "been into my lord's mansion?"
Miss Boyle shook her head. The hackney rumbled off down towards the Mall; a chapman, shouting ballads and the last dying speech and confession of a famous thief hanged that morning, went by. The square was filled with sedan chairs, fashionable curricles and coaches, waiting footmen and pages.
"My lord's last reception seems well attended," said Miss Chressham quietly.
"Hold my hand again," whispered Selina, and she pulled her hat forward so that it concealed her face in its shadow.
Unnoticed they passed round the trees where the golden dusty light of late afternoon was burnishing the foliage, and reached the door of Lyndwood House.
A number of ladies, gaily dressed but wearing black favours, were leaving it; some were weeping, all seemed awed.
"He was very handsome," said one as she stepped into her chair.