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It was, I think, the blackest moment of my life. A wild desire for escape on any terms surged over me. That look on Audrey's face was biting into my brain like an acid. 'I will go and pack, I said. 'This is the end of all things, I said to myself. I had suspended my packing in order to sit on my bed and brood. I was utterly depressed.
A few days later an automobile not Audrey's but a large limousine bumped, with slow and soft dignity, across the railway lines which diversify the quays of Boulogne harbour and, having hooted in a peculiar manner, came to a stop opposite nothing in particular. "Here we are," said Mr. Gilman, reaching to open the door. "You can see her masthead light." It was getting dark.
Nevertheless, at frequent intervals Audrey's eyes changed, and she seemed for an instant to be a very naive, very ingenuous and wistful little thing and this though she had reached the age of twenty. Perhaps she was feeling sorry for the girl she used to be. And no doubt she was also thinking of her mother, who had died within eight hours of their nocturnal interview. The death of Mrs.
Their porteur leaped over the counter from behind and made signs for a key. All Audrey's trunks in turn joined Miss Ingate's; none was missing. And finally an official, small and fierce, responded to the invocations of the porteur and established himself at the counter in front of them. He put his hand on Miss Ingate's trunk. "Op-en," he said in English.
"We're all right," gasped Trent reassuringly, and choked violently as he inhaled a mouthful of grit-laden air. In the same instant, across the murk shot a broad beam of light from the open doorway. Behind it Sara could discern white faces peering anxiously Audrey's and Miles's, and, behind them again, loomed the heads and shoulders of others who had hurried to the scene of the catastrophe.
Even when the details had been arranged she still sat in her straight chair and made no move to go. And Audrey felt that the next move was up to her. "What's the news about Graham Spencer?" she inquired. "He'll be drafted, I suppose." "Not if they claim exemption. He's making shells, you know." She lifted rather heavy eyes to Audrey's. "His mother is trying that now," she said.
She scarcely knew how circumstances had arranged themselves up to the time when she found herself riding away again with Alice, while a man of Mr. Audrey's led her horse. They could not talk freely till he left them at the place where the stony road turned to a soft track, and it was safe going once more. Then Alice told her own side of it. "Yes, my dear; I heard him call out.
Come in, and I'll see if Wastborowe's in a reasonable temper, and that hangs somewhat on the one that Audrey's in." The porter shut the gate behind Mr Ewring, and went to seek Wastborowe. Just then Jane Hiltoft, coming to her door, saw him waiting, and invited him to take a seat. "Fine morning, Master." "Ay, it is, Jane. Have you yet here poor Johnson's little maid?"
"And you had best be careful, or you'll prove yourself another! There's been talk enough already. Audrey, village innocent that she is, is the only one that doesn't know it. The town's not the country; if he sets tongues a-clacking here" "He won't," said Darden roughly. "He's no hare-brained one-and-twenty! And Audrey's a good girl. Go send her here, Deborah.
"No, I haven't been entirely resting." "There are all sorts of stories going about. That you're going into a hospital; that you're learning to fly; that you're in the secret service?" "Just because I find it stupid going about without a man!" Natalie eyed her shrewdly, but there was no self-consciousness in Audrey's face.
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