They walked down the King's Road looking for a cab, Miss Lambert and Verneede engaged in vivacious conversation, Leavesley silent, engaged in troubled attempts to think.
I give a few links from the chain of his thoughts just as a specimen.
"Fanny, I love you--no, I can't say that, it's too bald and brutal. Miss Lambert, I have long wanted to--oh, rubbish! How would it do to take her hand--I _daren't_--bother!--does she care a button about me? Perhaps it would be better to put it off till the next time--I'm not going to funk it--may I call you Fanny?--or Fanny--may I call you Fanny? or Miss Lambert may I call you Fanny? How would it be to write? No, I'll _do_ it."
They stopped, Mr Verneede had hailed a cab, and Leavesley came out of his reverie to find a four-wheeler drawing up at the pavement.
"Hullo," he said to Verneede, "what did you call that thing for?"
"To drive in," replied Fanny, whilst Verneede opened the door. "Get in, I'm in a horrible fright."
"But," said Leavesley, "a four-wheeler--why not a hansom?"
"No, no," said Miss Lambert, getting into the vehicle, "I hate hansoms, I was thrown out of one once. Besides, this is more _respectable_. Do get in quick, and tell the man to drive fast; I want to get the agony over."
"Corner of Southampton Row," cried Leavesley to the driver. He got in, Verneede shut the door and stood on the pavement, bowing and smiling in an antiquated way as they drove off.
It was a four-wheeler with pretensions in the form of maroon velveteen cushions and rubber tyres, a would-be imitation brougham, but the old growler blood came out in its voice, every window rattled. Driving in it, one could hear oneself speak, but conversation with a companion to be intelligible had to be conducted in a mild shout.
"I don't in the least know what I'm going to say to him," cried Miss Lambert, leaning forward towards her companion--he was seated opposite to her on the front seat. "I'm so nervous, I can't think."
"No, no, I'm _going_. Don't let's talk of it, let's talk of something pleasant." She opened her purse, turned its meagre contents into her lap, and examined some bills that were stuffed into a side compartment.
"What's two-and-six, and three shillings, and eighteen pence?"