illuminating their tiny chamber, and he saw her face once more, as
though after long years. And there were little black marks round her
eyes, due to her tears and the fog and the fragment of lace. And those
little black marks appeared to him to be the most delicious, enchanting,
and wonderful little black marks that the mind of man could possibly
conceive. And there was an exquisite, timid, confiding, surrendering
look in her eyes, which said: 'I'm only a weak, foolish, fanciful woman,
and you are a big, strong, wise, great man; my one merit is that I know
_how_ great, _how_ chivalrous, you are!' And mixed up with the timidity
in that look there was something else--something that made him almost
shudder. All this by the light of one match....

Good-bye world! Good-bye mother! Good-bye Aunt Annie! Good-bye the
natural course of events! Good-bye correctness, prudence, precedents!
Good-bye all! Good-bye everything! He dropped the match and kissed her.

And his knowledge of women was still further increased.

Oh, the unique ecstasy of such propinquity!

Eternity set in. And in eternity one does not light matches....

The next exterior phenomenon was a blinding flash through the window of
what, after all, was a cab. The door opened.

'You'd better get out o' this,' said the cabman, surveying them by the
ray of one of his own lamps.

'Why?' asked Henry.

'Why?' replied the cabman sourly. 'Look here, governor, do you know
where we are?'

'No,' said Henry.

'No. And I'm jiggered if I do, either. You'd better take the other
blessed lamp and ask. No, not me. I don't leave my horse. I ain't agoin'
to lose my horse.'

So Henry got out of the cab, and took a lamp and moved forward into
nothingness, and found a railing and some steps, and after climbing the
steps saw a star, which proved ultimately to be a light over a
swing-door. He pushed open the swing-door, and was confronted by a
footman.

'Will you kindly tell me where I am? he asked the footman.

'This is Marlborough House,' said the footman.

'Oh, is it? Thanks,' said Henry.

'Well,' ejaculated the cabman when Henry had luckily regained the
vehicle. 'I suppose that ain't good enough for you! Buckingham Palace is
your doss, I suppose.'

They could now hear distant sounds, which indicated other vessels in
distress.

The cabman said he would make an effort to reach Charing Cross, by
leading his horse and sticking to the kerb; but not an inch further than