"Have you any luggage that I can assist you with?" asked the fresh air
man, as Mysie seemed reluctant to get out, now that she had arrived at
her destination.
"No," she replied simply, forgetting to thank him for his kind
consideration, and rising slowly to her feet, she followed the stream of
passengers down the platform, keeping a keen look-out for Peter.
"Here we are, Mysie," he said cheerily, striding towards her, with real
welcome in his voice, and she clung to him like a child, so glad that he
had been true to his word. "I have a cab waiting," he rattled on
brightly. "Just come along, and we'll soon be at your digs, and we'll
talk as we drive along," and he piloted her to a waiting cab; and
getting in beside her, it moved off, as she heard him say "Grassmarket"
to the driver.
But she had little interest in anything, now that Peter was here. She
felt a sense of security in his company that she had never felt before.
She trusted him, now that all her bearings were lost. The fear of the
city, and the strangeness of her experiences, made her turn to him as
her only prop upon which she could lean; and she clung to his arm as
they drove along, the cab rattling over the stones and through what
seemed to Mysie interminable streets of houses.
Pages:
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272