“Insufferable ass! Where’s that luggage? Ah, here we are,” and Porteus opened the cab-door with emphasis.
“Get in, Kate, you’ll find everything shipshape at home.”
“You will come across later?”
“If I’m wanted.”
“Then we shall expect you both. We have not thanked you yet.”
“Oh, if I’m to be thanked, I sha’n’t come.”
“Don’t say that,” and Murchison’s hand rested for a moment on Porteus Carmagee’s shoulder.
Lombard Street again, broad, tranquil Lombard Street, warm with its red-walled houses, shaded by its cypresses, its budding elms and limes, St. Antonia’s steeple clear against the blue. The old house itself, white-sashed and sun-steeped, curtains at the windows, the steps white and fresh as snow.
A head disappeared from the hall window as the cab drove up; the front door opened; they were welcomed by a homely and familiar face.
“Mary!”