Miss Causton's voice had formerly been drawlingly slow, but it came back quickly enough now, and altogether without surprise. "Yes, yes--I want to see you too--quick--how late shall you be?" "I don't know--eleven--I can't ask you to wait----" "I'll wait--I'll have my dinner here----" "Where, then?" "Where are you going?" "Piccadilly way----" Then, breathlessly, "Swan & Edgar's, at eleven----" "No, no----" "Sssh--there's no time to talk--there, at eleven----" "Half-past ten----" "Yes----" Billy came in again, but I was away from the screen by then. "Better hurry, unless you want a cold dinner," I said, moving towards the door; and "Better hurry yourself," I heard him say as I left.... I dashed across the road for a bus that was just starting; but it was not for some minutes after I had settled myself inside it that I began to realise what I had just done. Then as bit by bit I grew calmer, it struck me as in the last degree remarkable. What had so suddenly impelled me to say, "I can't see you now?" And why had she replied that she too wished to see me? Why should I have wished to see her at all? Or she me? And why that long, long stare of eyes into eyes? Robson, the Berkeley, my painfully marshalled statement, Pepper and Hastie and Campbell and all--these things had gone as completely out of my mind as if they had had no bearing at all on my life and fortunes. I had squeezed into a corner of the bus farthest from the door, and the vehicle had glass panels forward. These were blurred with a fresh shower, orange squares, with now the halo of a lamp moving slowly past, now a muffled or umbrella-ed figure. We pulled up for a moment before the pear-shaped globes of a chemist's window, ruby and emerald, and then went forward again, and I seemed once more to hear that breathless "Swan & Edgar's--eleven," and my own "No, no!"... I had not wanted that. I had not wanted to keep her at _that_ corner, draggle-skirted, searching faces for the face she wanted, looked at in her turn, perhaps moved along by the police. For whatever I had thought before, if I had thought anything, that long union of our eyes had held no meanings of commonness.... But why the appointment at all? "Well," I thought within myself as the bus drew up for a moment at the Adam and Eve, and then started forward again down Tottenham Court Road, "at least this explains the 'L' on the teacloth."... After a lapse of time of which I was hardly conscious, I became aware of the glow of the Palace and the lights of Shaftesbury Avenue. By sheer force of will I dragged myself back to the present. Inexplicable as it all was, it must wait. My other business could not wait. Now for the Berkeley....