The total silence of Halcyone, her
disappearance from the face of the earth as far as he was concerned,
seemed like something incredible.
There were no traces of her. Mrs. Porrit was out, and the orchard house
shut up, so, he obtained no information. He had stopped there to enquire
on his way to the station when he had left Wendover. La Sarthe Chase was
entirely closed, except for a woman and her husband from the village who
slept there. But what right had he to be interested now, in any case? He
had better shut the whole matter out of his mind, and keep his thoughts
upon his coming marriage with Cecilia Cricklander.
And it was this frame of mind which caused him to plunge recklessly into
work as soon as he reached London, though he found that nothing really
assuaged his misery.
It was a glorious day towards the end of August when he got onto the
boat at Dover, and there ran across Miss Cora Lutworth, bent upon
_trousseau_ business in Paris. She was with her friend, the lady who
chaperoned her, and greeted him with her usual breezy charm.
They sat down together in a comfortable corner on deck, while the lady
went to have a sleep.
Pages:
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356