Theydon was in the company of the woman he loved, yet no word of love could rise to his lips.

In the first place he dared not woo the daughter of a millionaire; in the second were his suit even possible, he was far too honorable minded to take immediate advantage of her disturbed state and the services he had undoubtedly rendered, and give the slightest hint of his passion.
So he sighed and looked out of the window at a fast-flying vista of a Kentish hillside, and contented himself by saying: "For what little I have done, or attempted to do, I am already rewarded far beyond my wildest dreams." Even that was more than he meant to say.

Glancing timidly at Evelyn to see whether or not she resented his words, he was astounded to find that she had blushed scarlet, and, in her turn, was absorbed in the landscape.
Then he remembered that in the frenzy of the moment following the report of her mother's capture by Wong Li Fu, he had kissed her.

Had he, or had he not?
If not, why not now?
But that way lay madness.

And, wretched doubt, was she already the promised bride of another man?
It was a relief when the train stopped at Sevenoaks.
When it moved on again, they were normal young people once more, and discussed various features of the Young Manchus' raid on society as though the extermination of political adversaries were a commonplace occurrence in modern England.
At last, after a journey which lived long in their minds, since even a prosaic train may follow the path to Wonderland, they arrived at London Bridge, and hummed in a taxi through streets of gaunt warehouses until the light of Westminster flashed on a Thames veiled in the blue mystery of a Summer gloaming.
The cab had hardly halted outside the Fortescue Square mansion when the door was thrown wide, and Tomlinson appeared, flanked by two stalwart footmen.