"Good-bye," said Lady Dashwood. "Look out for poor Jim on the platform. Look out for him!" They kissed once or twice in formal fashion, and then May walked away to the door and went out without looking back. The door closed behind her and Lady Dashwood was left alone. She lay back on the cushions. The sun was coming in through the windows much as it had done that afternoon when she was reading the telegram from May. "I can't do any more," she murmured half aloud; "I can't." Her eyes wandered to the fire and up to the portrait over the fireplace. The light falling on the painted face obliterated the shadows at the corners of the mouth, so that he seemed to be smiling. CHAPTER XXXII THE WARDEN HURRIES The Warden was on his way to the station. For three days he had done what he could to keep out of May Dashwood's presence. He had invented no excuses for seeing her, he had invented reasons for not seeing her. These three days of self-restraint were almost over. He could have returned home in time to take her to the railway-station himself if he had intended to do so. His business was over and he lingered, a desperate conscientiousness forcing him to linger. He allowed himself to be button-holed by other men, not completely aware of what was being said to him, because all the time in his imagination he saw May waiting for him. He pictured her going down the staircase to the hall and getting into her taxi alone. He pictured this while some one propounded to him plans, not only for successfully getting rid of party politics, but for the regeneration of the whole human race. It was at that point that he broke away. Some one else proposed walking back to King's with him. "I'm going to the station," said the Warden, and he struck off by himself and began to walk faster. He had run it too close, he risked missing her altogether. That he did not intend. He meant to arrive a moment before the train started. It was surely not part of his duty to be absolutely discourteous! He must just say "Good-bye." He began to walk still faster, for it seemed likely that he might be too late even to say "Good-bye." In Beaumont Street a taxi was in sight. He hailed it and got in. The man seemed an outrageously long time getting the car round and started. He seemed to be playing with the curb of the pavement. At last he started. The squalor of the approach to the station did not strike the Warden this afternoon. It always had struck him before unpleasantly. Just now he was merely aware of vehicles to be passed before he could reach the station, and he had his eyes on his watch continually to see how the moments were going. Suppose the train moved off just as he reached the platform? The Warden put his hand on the door ready to jump out. He had the fare already in the other hand. The station at last!