They began the evening like usual, driving down highways and byways. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. He was really very bright and clever, with a sort of conversational boldness that was just within the limits of permissible daring. She reached the station, and mingling with a crowd of excursionists who had come from the river on the other side, took her place in the train unnoticed. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. "Long life to the Markis, and we accept his honourable proposal," responded the mob.
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