They said no more until the girl was entering the cab. Then:
"I understand, Dick," she whispered, "and nobody else knows, so try to be diplomatic for a little longer."
Holding her hand, he looked into her eyes. Then, without another word between them, the cab moved off, and Haredale stood looking after it until it was lost amid the traffic. He started to walk across to Park Lane.
At the Astoria Zoe was waiting patiently. But when, at last, Mary found herself in her friend's room, the gloomy companionship of the thoughts with which she had been alone since leaving Haredale, proved too grievous to be borne alone. She threw herself on to a cushioned settee, and her troubles found vent in tears.
"Mary, dear!" cried Zoe, all that was maternal protective in her nature, asserting itself. "Tell me all about it."
The unruly mop of her brown hair mingled with the gold of her friend's, and presently, between sobs, the story was told—an old, old story enough.
"He will have to resign his commission," she sobbed. "And then he will have to go abroad! Oh, Zoe! I know it must come soon. Even I cannot expect him, nor wish him to dance attendance on that odious Julius Rohscheimer for ever! And he makes so little headway."
Zoe's little foot beat a soft tatoo upon the carpet.
"I wonder—will there always be a Julius Rohscheimer for him to dance attendance upon!" she said softly.
Mary raised her tearful eyes.