They did some hasty packing before bedtime, but talked
little. They were to rise early, and flee at once from the hated
house.
A sunny morning--it was July--saw them start on their journey,
tremulous, but rejoicing. Long before midday they had found lodgings
that suited them, and had made themselves at home. The sense of
liberty gave everything a delightful aspect; their little
sitting-room was perfection the trees and fields had an ideal beauty
after Hammersmith, and they promised themselves breezy walks on the
Downs above. Not a word of the trouble between them. The mother held
to a hope that the great change of circumstance would insensibly
turn Olga's thoughts from her reckless purpose; and, for the moment,
Olga herself seemed happy in self-forgetfulness.
The man to whom she had plighted herself was named Kite. He did not
look like a bird of prey; his countenance, his speech, were anything
but sinister; but for his unlucky position, Mrs. Hannaford would
probably have rather taken to him. Olga's announcement came with
startling suddenness. For a twelvemonth she had been trying to make
money by artistic work, and to a small extent had succeeded,
managing to sell a few drawings to weekly papers, and even to get a
poor little commission for the illustrating of a poor little book.
In this way she had made a few acquaintances in the so-called
Bohemian world, but she spoke seldom of them, and Mrs.
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