"And that's quite far enough. Now, Dodwell, you have our unanimous permission to do what you were so anxious to do at first--go." Frank Clifford held the door wide open, with a significance it was impossible for the other to misunderstand. Anthony Dodwell showed how plainly he did understand by marching through it without a word. Miss Forster had drawn back as Beaton entered the room, so that she had been behind him, where she had stayed. Now she came forward and touched him on the arm. "Sydney!" He was silent; he did not even pronounce her name; he took the hand which she offered, and bowed his head before her. Frank Clifford said: "Miss Forster, I trust that I am neither presumptuous nor impertinent in suggesting that I think it possible that you are not over-anxious to stay with us much longer; if that is the case--I don't know how to put it, but--if you'd like to take Beaton with you, you can." CHAPTER XXXII In the Taxicab They were alone together in the taxicab, the one which had been waiting. Draycott had been left behind. There had been a brief discussion as to the address to which the man was to be told to drive. "Where are we going?" she had asked him. "You are perfectly well aware," he had told her in the grave tones which had seemed to have become habitual, "that I'm not a fit person for you to consort with. Let us say to each other all that there is to be said here; it shouldn't take very long, there is so little to be said; then let us part company--for ever." "That is your opinion, is it? It's very nice of you to express it. Where are you living?" "In a road near Clapham Junction--Lavender Sweep; a name which suggests possibilities--which don't go any farther than the name. It's a street of little houses." "What is your number?" "A hundred and ninety-seven." She spoke to the cabman. "Drive us to 197 Lavender Sweep, Clapham Junction." Then to Beaton: "Will you open the door for me?" She entered. He spoke to her still standing on the pavement. "You know you ought not to go there; it's not the sort of place to which you're accustomed." "Then the sooner I become accustomed the better. Will you please get in?" He got in; the cab started; as it has been written, they were alone in the cab together. Their conversation, especially at the beginning, was of a distinctly singular sort; as a matter of fact, she was enjoying herself immensely. It was many a day since she had even supposed it possible that she could enjoy herself so much. "You don't seem to be particularly glad to see me." "What right have I to be glad?" "That's it--what right have you? That's a particularly sensible inquiry, which makes it the more awkward--for me--that I should be rather glad to see you. I imagine that these things are an affair of temperament." "You are laughing at me."