"It is on the stroke of noon," I said.
She submitted; but it was with the worst grace I have ever seen. She accepted my ministrations; but it was as if I were a machine: not one word did she speak, good or bad.
By the time that she was mounted, her maid was up too, and the bags disposed.
"Come," I said again; and mounted my own horse.
As we rode out through the great gate, the Clock Tower beat the hour of noon.
* * * * *
I am weary of saying that my journeys were strange; but, certainly, this was another of them.
* * * * *
Through the narrow streets I made no attempt to ride beside her. In the van went three of my men; then rode I; then, about ten yards behind, came Dolly and her maid. Then came two pack-horses, led by a fellow who controlled them both; and my fourth man closed the dismal cavalcade. So we went through the streets—all the way down the Strand and into the City, wheeled to the left, and so out by Bishopsgate. It was a clear kind of day, without rain: but the clouds hung low, and I thought it would rain before nightfall. I intended to do the whole journey in a day; so as to be at Hare Street before midnight at least. A night on the way, and Dolly's company at supper, all alone with me, or even with her maid, appeared to me too formidable to face.
When we were out in the country, I reined my horse in. I saw a change pass over Dolly's face; then it became like stone.