As she dressed, she began to realize how much
this matter-of-fact, unimpressionable young man had done for her
during the last few hours. The reflection affected her in a
curious manner. She became afflicted with a shyness which she
bad not felt when he was in the room. When at last she had
finished her toilette and opened the door, she was almost
tongue-tied. He was sitting on the top step, with his back
against the landing, and his eyes were closed. He opened them
with a little start, however, as soon as he heard her approach.
"I am glad you have not been long," he remarked. "I want to be
at my office at nine o'clock and I must go and have a bath
somewhere. These stairs are rather steep. Please walk
carefully."
She followed him in silence down three flights of stone steps.
On each landing there were names upon the doors--two firms of hop
merchants, a solicitor, and a commission agent. The ground floor
was some sort of warehouse, from which came a strong smell of
leather.
Tavernake opened the outside door with a small key and they
passed into the street.
"London Bridge Station is just across the way," he said. "The
refreshment room will be open and we can get some breakfast at
once."
"What time is it?" she asked.
"About half-past seven."
She walked by his side quite meekly, and although there were many
things which she was longing to say, she remained absolutely
without the power of speech. Except that he was looking a little
crumpled, there was nothing whatever in his appearance to
indicate that he had been up all night.
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