"What are _you_ doing?" She had as much a right to ask him. "I’ve been waiting to see you go by," said he. "But----" "I knew you were coming." "How?" "We’ve been thinking just exactly the same things ever since I said good-bye yesterday. I woke up early this morning wondering what had happened." "So did I," she whispered in an awed voice. "Then--before I’d got my coat on, I came to the conclusion that I had to live somewhere, and that the only thing that mattered was whether I did it honestly--not where I did it. Then, I sort of felt you might come to the Gardens this morning." She set her lips. Once that camisole is on, every woman has her dignity. It is a thing to play with, much as a child plays with its box of bricks. She makes wonderful patterns with it--noble ladies--imperious dames, who put dignity before humanity as you put the cart before the horse. "Why should you think I would come to the Gardens?" she asked. John steadied his eyes. "Well, I presume you go up to town sometimes," he said. "Yes--but one can get up to town by Knightsbridge." "Of--course. I forgot that. But when you might be wanting to go to Bayswater first." She looked very steadily into his eyes. How long had he seen her before she had seen him? "Perhaps you’re under the impression that I came to see you," she said, and she began walking towards the Bayswater Road. He followed quietly by her side. This needed careful treatment. She was incensed. He ought not to have thought that, of course. "I never said so," he replied quietly. Then they fought--all the way over to the Bayswater side. Each little stroke was like velvet, but beneath it all was the passion of the claw. "I expect it’s as well we’re not going to see each other any more," she said one moment and, when he agreed, repented it bitterly the next. He cursed himself for agreeing. But you must agree. Dignity, you know. Dignity before humanity. And then he called her a hansom--helped her within. "Are you going back to the Gardens?" she asked from inside, not shutting the doors. "No--I’m going up to town." "Well----" She pushed the bricks away. "Can’t--can’t I drive you up?" He stepped inside, and the cab rolled off. "Were you going to have walked?" she asked presently, after a long, long silence. "No," said John. "I was going to drive--with you." CHAPTER XVI EASTER SUNDAY One Easter Sunday, soon after his first clandestine meeting with Jill, John was seated alone in his room in Fetter Lane. The family of Morrell and the family of Brown--the plumber and the theatre cleaner--had united in a party and gone off to the country--what was the country to them. He had heard them discussing it as they descended the flights of uncarpeted wooden stairs and passed outside his door.