“Cross! Why, of course not. I was only anxious--a tiny bit afraid that you weren’t coming.” He sounded so friendly that he convinced her. She sighed contentedly. “Has it seemed _very_ long?” He looked up from inspecting his lamps. She had come down the steps to the pavement. The porter had entered the hotel; inside he was shooting the last bolt into its socket. He held his breath. In the moon-washed street after all these years he was alone with her. “Without you, waiting would always seem long.” She started. Glanced back across her shoulder. The sounds on the other side of the door had stopped. There was no retreat. Turning to him with girlish dignity, she said: “It’s very kind of you to have offered to help me, but---- I don’t want you to say things like that. We’ll enjoy ourselves much better if we’re sensible.” He felt a sudden shame, as though she had accused him of taking advantage of her defenselessness. All the things he had been on the point of telling her--he must postpone them. Presently she would remember; her own heart would tell her. “It was foolish of me,” he said humbly. She laughed softly and shook back her head. Her hair lay upon her shoulders like a schoolgirl’s. “There now, we understand each other. Why do men always spoil things before they’re started by making stupid love?” “Do they?” “Well, don’t they?” She smiled tolerantly. “Let’s be friends. If we’re sensible, we can have such a jolly trip to London--such a lark. No more sentimentals--promise---- Shake hands on it.” As she held out both her hands, the cloak fell open, revealing her pageant costume. She noticed that his eyes rested on it. “Yes, I kept my bargain--even to the sandals.” The glimmer of her feet peeped out for a second beneath the hem of her skirt. “Now, how about making a start?” He helped her into the seat which, up to now, had reproached him with its emptiness. He didn’t have to imagine any longer. He climbed in beside her. “Are you warm?” “Very comfy.” “What time do you want to get there? I can get you there by seven or eight, doing twenty an hour--that’s to say, if nothing goes wrong.” “Do me splendidly. I ought to tell you while I remember: I think this is awfully decent of you.” “Not decent at all” He hesitated. “It’s not decent because--well, because I always told myself that I’d do something like this some day.” “Remember your promise.” She held up a warning finger. “You didn’t let me finish. What I meant to say was that, ever since I was a little kid, I’ve played at rescuing princesses.” She looked up at him searchingly, then bit her lip to keep back her thoughts. “What a queer game to play!” That was all.