"Thank you, monsieur," replied Artois.
He strove hard to speak as cordially as Delarey.
Two or three minutes later Hermione and he were in a hansom driving down Regent Street. The fog had lifted, and it was possible to see to right and left of the greasy thoroughfare.
"Need we go straight back?" said Hermione. "Why not tell him to drive down to the Embankment? It's quiet there at night, and open and fine—one of the few fine things in dreary old London. And I want to have a last talk with you, Emile."
Artois pushed up the little door in the roof with his stick.
"The Embankment—Thames," he said to the cabman, with a strong foreign accent.
"Right, sir," replied the man, in the purest cockney.
As soon as the trap was shut down above her head Hermione exclaimed:
"Emile, I'm so happy, so—so happy! I think you must understand why now. You don't wonder any more, do you?"
"No, I don't wonder. But did I ever express any wonder?"