He looked at his watch;
there was yet time; he would hurry through his breakfast and catch the
10.45 to Brighton.
But was there nothing else prompting this unpremeditated resolve to get
away down to Victoria station? Not some secret hope that he might
perchance descry Lady Cunyngham and her daughter among the crowd
swarming on to the long platform? They had not definitely told him at
the theatre that they were returning the next morning; but was it not
just possible--or, rather, extremely probable? And surely he might
presume on their mutual acquaintance so far as to get into the same
railway-carriage and have some casual chatting with them on the way
down? He had been as attentive as possible to them on the previous
evening; and they had seemed pleased. And he had tried to arouse in Miss
Honnor's mind some recollection of the closer relationship which had
existed between her and him in the solitudes of far Strathaivron.
When he did arrive at Victoria station he found the people pouring in in
shoals; for now was the very height of the Brighton season; besides
which there were plenty of Londoners glad to escape, if only for a day,
from the perpetual fog and gloom.
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