What did it mean? she wondered. They had met often of late. She had read an unmistakable ardency in his eyes very often, when her glance met his. And, deep in her own heart, she knew that all the woman-love she would ever have to give a man she had unconsciously given to him. Was this sudden secret handclasp of his a silent expression of love on his part, or was it meant merely as an assurance of sympathy in the matter of her new faith?
She could not be sure which it was, but she let her plump fingers give a little pressure of response. How did he translate this response? she wondered. She had no means of deciding, save that her heart leaped wildly in a tumultuous delight as she felt how he literally gripped her fingers in a closer, warmer clasp.
They had reached the house by this time. Hammond would not go in. He shook hands, in parting, with each, but his hold upon Zillah’s hand was longer than on the others. He pressed the fingers meaningly, and his eyes held an ardency that gave a new tumult to her heart.
As she passed into the house she whispered to herself, “Will he be at Spitalfields to-night?”
CHAPTER XVIII.
TOLD IN A CAB.
A quarter of an hour before the time Zillah had given him, Tom Hammond was waiting near the “Mission Hall for Jews,” where the meeting was to be held. He was anxious that she should not know of his proximity, so kept out of sight,—there were many possibilities of this among the various stalls in the gutter-way.
Presently he saw her coming, and the light of a glad admiration leaped into his eyes. “What a superb face and figure she has!” he mused. “What a perfect queen of a woman she is!”
From behind a whelk-stall he watched her cross over to the door of the Hall. Here she paused a moment, and glanced around.
“I believe she half expected to see me somewhere near!” he murmured to himself.