You know my
address. May I be favoured with yours?"
He handed her a card and scribbled a telephone number upon it.
They were in the station now, and their baggage in the hands of
separate porters. She walked slowly down the platform by his
side.
"Will you allow me to say," he ventured, "how sorry I am--for all
this?"
The slight uncertainty of his speech pleased her. She looked up
at him with infinite regret. As they neared the barrier, she held
out her hand.
"I, too, am more sorry than I can tell you;" she said a little
tremulously. "Whatever may come, that is how I feel myself. I am
sorry."
They separated almost upon the words. Catherine was accosted by a
man at whom Julian glanced for a moment in surprise, a man whose
dress and bearing, confident though it was, clearly indicated some
other status in life. He glanced at Julian with displeasure, a
displeasure which seemed to have something of jealousy in its
composition. Then he grasped Catherine warmly by the hand.
"Welcome back to London, Miss Abbeway! Your news?"
Her reply was inaudible. Julian quickened his pace and passed out
of the station ahead of them.
CHAPTER X
The Bishop and the Prime Minister met, one afternoon a few days
later, at the corner of Horse Guards Avenue. The latter was
looking brown and well, distinctly the better for his brief
holiday. The Bishop, on the contrary, was pale and appeared
harassed. They shook hands and exchanged for a moment the usual
inanities.
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