But those few
minutes were minutes of suspense. Lessingham was to some extent
conscious of their queer, allegorical significance.
"I have come," he reminded her quite steadily, "for my answer."
She showed him the small bag by her side upon the seat, and touched
her cloak. She was indeed prepared for a journey.
"You see," she told him, "here I am."
His face was suddenly transformed. She was almost afraid of the
effect of her words. She found herself struggling in his arms.
"Not yet," she begged. "Please remember where we are."
He released her reluctantly. A few yards away, they could hear the
soft purring of the six-cylinder engine, inexorable reminder of the
passing moments. He caught her by the hand.
"Come," he whispered passionately. "Every moment is precious."
She hesitated no longer. The open postern gate seemed to him
suddenly to lead down the great thoroughfare of a new and splendid
life. He was to be one of those favoured few to whom was given
the divine prize. And then he stopped short, even while she walked
willingly by his side. He knew so well the need for haste. The
gentle murmur of that engine was inviting him all the while. Yet
he knew there was one thing more which must be said.
"Philippa," he began, "you know what we are doing? We can escape,
I believe. My flight is all wonderfully arranged.
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