Feathers was standing by the door of the taxi, his rather shabby slouch hat tilted over his eyes, his hands thrust into his pockets.
Marie turned to him.
"Good-bye, Mr. Dakers."
"Good-bye, Mrs. Lawless." He shook her hand in his big paw, squeezed it and let it go, standing back to make room for Chris.
Several of the hotel visitors who had been rather friendly with Chris came clustering for a last word.
"See you in town, old chap—cherio! Don't forget to look me up! You've got my address."
The taxi-driver interposed.
"You ain't got too much time for the train, sir."
"Right-oh! Good-bye." The taxicab wheeled about and out into the road. A sudden mist blurred Marie's eyes as she turned in her seat for a last look. She had been unhappy here, and yet—something within her shrank from the thought of leaving it all behind. She had grown to dread the future. In her nervous, apprehensive state she had no hope that this fresh step would be for the better, and she shrank from further pain and disappointment.
When the cab had vanished down the road Mrs. Heriot turned to Feathers.