And I want her to hear that from my own lips, if only once."
Mrs. Hannaford held out her hand impulsively.
"Do what you feel you must. You make me feel very strangely. I never
knew what----"
Her voice faltered. She rose.
When she had left him, Piers sat for some time communing with his
thoughts. Then he went home to the simple meal he called dinner, and
afterwards, as the evening was clear, walked for a couple of hours
away from the louder streets. His resolve gave him a night of quiet
rest.
CHAPTER XIX
Again Irene was going down into Cheshire, to visit the two old
ladies, her relatives. It was arranged that she should accompany
Mrs. Hannaford to Malvern, and spend a couple of days there. The
travellers arrived on a Friday evening. Before leaving town Mrs.
Hannaford had written to Piers Otway to give him the address of the
house at Malvern in which rooms had been taken for them.
On Saturday morning there was sunshine over the hills. Irene walked,
and talked, but it was evident with thoughts elsewhere. When they
sat down to rest and to enjoy the landscape before them, the rich
heart of England, with its names that echo in history and in song,
Irene plucked at the grass beside her, and presently began to strip
a stem, after the manner of children playing at a tell-fortune game.
She stripped it to the end; her hands fell and she heaved a little
sigh.
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