Lawrence interposed with what he intended to be an assumption of the grand manner. “My good Mr. Railway-porter, or whatever you may be, I will remove myself from your objectionable station without any hint from you. My destination was Ostend, and is now Pimlico. This is an acquaintance of mine who owes me £1880; but I don’t require him to take charge of me. There already is somebody who does that. Can’t you hear her? That’s her laughing.” “Come,” I said. “Let’s get into a cab.” “Thank you, I prefer walking. Nothing like exercise when you are liverish. Are you alone?” Miss Moore came through the crowd. “No; I am with him.” He stared at her as if in doubt; then with sudden recognition-- “Ah! It is the sister of the brother--the affectionate relative of our dear Tom--the beautiful Miss Moore! It is like a scene out of one of the plays in which you are the bright, particular star. The ghosts are gathering round. You were there; you saw her?” “Who?” “The Goddess!” “Was it--a Goddess?” “That’s a demon!” “What do you mean?” She took me by the arm. “Ask him what he means.” Lawrence answered. “It’s not a thing the meaning of which can be clarified by words. Come, and you shall see; come together--Mr. Ferguson and you.” She looked at me, inquiry in her eyes. I questioned him. “Where do you propose to take us?” “To a little place of mine, where the Goddess is.” “What is this stuff about the Goddess?” “Come, and you shall see.” I glanced at her. “Let’s go,” she said. He caught her words. “There speaks the lady who would learn; the woman possessed of the spirit of inquiry.” I repeated my former suggestion. “Let’s get into a cab.” But he declined. “No; I’ll have none of your cabs, I’ll walk. I’m cribb’d, cabined, and confined out in the open; in a cab I’d stifle. There’s a hand upon my heart, a grip upon my throat, a weight upon my head; they make it hard to breathe. I’ll be in close quarters soon enough; I’ll keep out of them as long as I can.” I turned to the officials. “Can’t you keep these people back? I don’t want to have them following us through the streets. The man’s not drunk, he’s ill.” “I should get him into a cab.” Lawrence, hearing what the fellow said, rushed at him in a fit of maniacal fury, repeating, in a crescendo scale-- “You’d get me into a cab! You’d get me into a cab! You’d get me into a cab! I’d kill you first.” The man shrank back as if fearful that his last hour had come. We went out of the station, a motley crowd--Lawrence with Miss Moore, and me close at his heels; behind, before, on either side, a miscellaneous assemblage of fools. I would have prevented her from coming had I had my way. I told her so at starting; but she whispered in my ear-- “I’m not afraid. Are you?”