of meeting her. As he was on emergency duty that night he could not leave the hospital even for a moment, but he got one of the probationers to go out and post the letter.
During the next few days, he awaited an answer with increasing impatience and anxiety. He had almost given up when, towards the end of the week, it arrived.
Dear David,
I shall be coming to Winton with my aunt to do some shopping on Thursday the 9th. If you can manage to be at the clock in the Caledonian Station about six oâclock I believe I could meet you there, but only for half an hour, since I must take the half-past six train home. I do trust that you are well and not working too hard.
Mary.
PS. Willie hopes you received his postcard.
The letter was as lifeless as a railway timetable, yet beneath its dullness ran an undercurrent which stirred Moray deeply. The absence of that animation which she had displayed which indeed marked everything she had ever done in his company, was painfully evident to him. But he would see her on Thursday next. This at least had been gained.
When the day came his plans were already made. He had arranged with Kerr, another houseman, to take over for two hours in the evening. Professor Drummond never made his evening visit until eight oâclock, so with luck he would be safe. The afternoon had turned wet and a fog was settling on the city as he left the hospital and boarded a yellow tram at Eldongrove. He feared he might be late, but well before the appointed time he was in the Caledonian Station, standing beneath the big central clock. The rush hour was in progress and under the high glass dome, impenetrably coated with the grime of years, crowds were streaming towards the local trains. The place reeked of steam, fog and sulphur fumes, echoed with the shrill blast of departing engines. From the underground platforms of the âlow levelâ a poisonous smoke welled up in snakey coils as from the inferno.
The clock struck six. Searching amongst all those unknown faces, Moray at last caught sight of her. His heart throbbed as she came towards him, carrying a number of parcels, looking unusually small and unprotected in that thrusting mob. She was wearing a dark brown costume with a short jacket, a thin necklet of fur and small brown hat. Nothing could have better suited her. He had never seen her so formally dressed. It gave her an unsuspected distinction and suddenly he coveted her.
âMary!â He relieved her of her parcels, untwisting the string from her small gloved fingers. She smiled at him, a trifle wanly, for she seemed tired. The fog had smeared her cheek and marked faint shadows under her eyes.
âSo you managed to get away?â
âYes,â he said, looking at her. There was silence between them, then he added: â Youâve been shopping?â
âThere were some things I had to get. Aunt Minnieâs had a regular field day.â She was making an effort to speak lightly. âNow sheâs gone to see a friend ⦠or I couldnât have got away.â
âCanât you stay longer?â
She shook her head, with lowered gaze.
âTheyâll be meeting me at Ardfillan.â
Was there a hint of surveillance in her answer? Whether or not, her apparent fatigue troubled him, as did her listless tone, the manner in which she hesitated to meet his eye.
âYou look as though you needed your tea. Shall we go in there?â
He pointed with some misgivings to the buffet which, flaring with light and packed to the doors, bore slight resemblance to the quiet refreshment room at Craigdoran. But she had already shaken her head.
âI had tea with my aunt at Fraserâs.â
He knew this as the big household furnishing emporium. He felt the blood rush to his head.
âThen letâs not stand here in this confounded rush. Weâll take a walk outside.â
They went out of the main exit and took the back street that led to Argyle Place and
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