And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. And, in applying the term to his friend, Thames meant to pay him a high compliment. She made up her mind in the train home that it should be a decisive crisis. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. He walked her home. Then Manning flopped back in his chair and dropped his chin like a man shot. It was everyone's favorite meal. He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. But here the resemblance stopped. When he comes he will do that raid of the pantechnicons the justice it deserves; he will picture the orderly evening scene about the Imperial Legislature in convincing detail, the coming and going of cabs and motor-cabs and broughams through the chill, damp evening into New Palace Yard, the reinforced but untroubled and unsuspecting police about the entries of those great buildings whose square and panelled Victorian Gothic streams up from the glare of the lamps into the murkiness of the night; Big Ben shining overhead, an unassailable beacon, and the incidental traffic of Westminster, cabs, carts, and glowing omnibuses going to and from the bridge. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought.
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