The cab, crossing a rough piece of road, jolted Peggy from her corner. Her hand fell on his.
'Peggy!' he cried, hoarsely.
Her grey eyes were wet. He could see them glisten. And then his arms were round her, and he was covering her upturned face with kisses.
The cab drew up at the entrance to Alcala. They alighted in silence, and without a word made their way through into the hall. From force of habit, Rutherford glanced at the letter-rack on the wall at the foot of the stairs. There was one letter in his pigeon-hole.
Mechanically he drew it out; and, as his eyes fell on the handwriting, something seemed to snap inside him.
He looked at Peggy, standing on the bottom stair, and back again at the envelope in his hand. His mood was changing with a violence that left him physically weak. He felt dazed, as if he had wakened out of a trance.
With a strong effort he mastered himself. Peggy had mounted a few steps, and was looking back at him over her shoulder. He could read the meaning now in the grey eyes.
'Good night, Peggy,' he said in a low voice. She turned, facing him, and for a moment neither moved.
'Good night!' said Rutherford again.
Her lips parted, as if she were about to speak, but she said nothing.