“Oh, tell me about her,” said Esther, who had been thinking all the while of Mrs. Barfield and of Miss Mary. “Tell me, there’s nothing the matter with Miss Mary?”
“Yes, there is: she can’t live no more in England; she has to go to winter, I think it is, in Algeria.”
At that moment the train screeched along the rails, and vibrating under the force of the brakes, it passed out of the tunnel into Blackfriars.
“We shall just be able to catch the ten minutes past four to Peckham,” she said, and they ran up the high steps. William strode along so fast that Esther was obliged to cry out, “There’s no use, William; train or no train, I can’t walk at that rate.”
There was just time for them to get their tickets at Ludgate Hill. They were in a carriage by themselves, and he proposed to draw up th
