Forgetful of time, perhaps half purposely forgetful, Aymer lingered on, and could not tear himself away.
At length the groom, tired of waiting in the rain, and anxious about the time, waived all ceremony, and came to seek his passenger.
Aymer pressed Violet’s hand, kissed it, and was gone, not daring to look back.
The wheels grated on the gravel, and Violet remained where he had left her.
Agnes came presently and found her, and started. The farewell had been given in the Blue Room.
“You did not say farewell here?” said Agnes, with emphasis.
Violet admitted it.
“Good Heavens—what an evil omen!” muttered Agnes, and drew her from the spot.
From that very room De Warren had gone, forth to his fate: from that room Aymer had started to win himself a way in the world.
It was late at night when he reached London. Nothing could be done till the morning. As he had no experience of the ways of the metropolis, Aymer naturally paid about half as much again as was necessary, and reckoning up his slender stock of money, foresaw that he could not long remain in town at this rate.