How soon, Lucy wondered, had Innes begun to suspect? Almost at once? Certainly before the afternoon, when she had turned green on the spot where it had happened.
But she had not been sure until she saw the silver rosette on Lucy's palm, and learned where it had been found.
Poor Innes. Poor Innes, who was paying forfeit.
" Tax-i! " yelled a voice along the corridor.
"There's your cab. I'll take your things. No, they're quite light; you forget the training I've had. I wish you weren't going, Miss Pym. We shall miss you so much."
Lucy heard herself saying the obvious things. She even heard herself promising Beau that she might come to them for Christmas, when Beau would be home for her first «working» holidays.
Beau put her into the cab, took a tender farewell of her, and said: "The station" to the driver, and the taxi slid into motion and Beau's face smiled a moment beyond the window, and was gone.
The driver pushed back the glass panel and asked: "London train, lady?" Yes, Lucy said, to London.
And in London she would stay. In London was her own, safe, nice, calm, collected existence, and in future she would be content with it. She would even give up lecturing on psychology.
What did she know about psychology anyhow?