Cambridge Club at six, and then went to his lodgings to take one last look at his outer man.  The evening was very fine, but he went down to the station in a cab, because he would not meet Lady Ongar in soiled boots.  He told himself again that he was an ass; and then tried to console himself by thinking that such an occasion as this seldom happened once to any man—­could hardly happen more than once to any man.  He had hired a carriage for her, not thinking it fit that Lady Ongar should be taken to her new home in a cab; and when he was at the station, half an hour before the proper time, was very fidgety because it had not come.  Ten minutes before eight he might have been seen standing at the entrance to the station looking out anxiously for the vehicle.  The man was there, of course, in time, but Harry made himself angry because he could not get the carriage so placed that Lady Ongar might be sure of stepping into it without leaving the platform.  Punctually to the moment the coming train announced itself by its whistle, and Harry Clavering felt himself to be in a flutter.

The train came up along the platform, and Harry stood there expecting to see Julia Brabazon’s head projected from the first window that caught his eye.  It was of Julia Brabazon’s head, and not of Lady Ongar’s, that he was thinking.  But he saw no sign of her presence while the carriages were coming to a stand-still, and the platform was covered with passengers before he discovered her whom he was seeking.  At last he encountered in the crowd a man in livery, and found from him that he was Lady Ongar’s servant.  “I have come to meet Lady Ongar,” said Harry, “and have got a carriage for her.”  Then the servant found his mistress, and Harry offered his hand to a tall woman in black.  She wore a black straw bat with a veil, but the veil was so thick that Harry could not at all see her face.

“Is that Mr. Clavering?” said she.

“Yes,” said Harry, “it is I. Your sister asked me to take rooms for you, and as I was in town I thought I might as well meet you to see if you wanted anything.  Can I get the luggage?”

“Thank you; the man will do that.  He knows where the things are.”

“I ordered a carriage; shall I show him where it is?  Perhaps you will let me take you to it?  They are so stupid here.  They would not let me bring it up.”

“It will do very well I’m sure.  It’s very kind of you.  The rooms are in Bolton street.  I have the number here.  Oh! thank you.”  But she would not take his arm.  So he led the way, and stood at the door while she got into the carriage with her maid.  “I’d better show the man where you are now.”  This he did, and afterward shook hands with her through the carriage window.  This was all he saw of her, and the words which have been repeated were all that were spoken.  Of her face he had not caught a glimpse.