When Lionel, having dressed for the last act, went into Miss Burgoyne's room, he found her (apparently) very much perturbed.
"Have you heard? It's worse than ever!" she called to him from the inner apartment.
"So they say."
"Whatever am I to do?" she exclaimed, her anxiety proving too much for her grammar.
"Well, I think you couldn't do better than stop where you are," Harry Thornhill made answer, carelessly.
"Stop where I am? It's impossible! My brother Jim would go frantic. He would make sure I was run over or drowned or something, and be off to the police-stations."
"Oh, no, he wouldn't? he wouldn't stir out on such a night, if he had any sense."
"Not if he thought his sister was lost? That's all you know. There are some people who do have a little affection in their nature," said Miss Burgoyne, as she drew aside the curtain and came forth, and went to the tall glass. "But surely I can get a four-wheeled cab, Mr. Moore? I will give the man a sovereign to take me safe home. And even then it will be dreadful. I get so frightened in a bad fog—absolutely terrified—and especially at night. Supposing the man were to lose his way? Or he might be drunk? I wish I had asked Jim to come down for
me. There's Miss Constance's mother never misses a single night; I wonder who she thinks is going to run away with that puny-faced creature!"
"Oh, if you are at all afraid to make the venture alone, I will go with you," said he. "I don't suppose I can see farther in a fog than any one else; but if you are nervous about being alone, you'd better let me accompany you."