Harvey handed her down, and Julia made no resistance. She was willing to see more of Mrs. Ogilvie—a widow evidently, but a widow of a different type from Mrs. Trevor. Greetings were exchanged, and the two gentlemen returned to the Captain's study, whence apparently they had emerged, while Julia found herself in a small sitting-room, old-fashioned but cosy. Mrs. Ogilvie led her to a seat near the fire. "It is chilly to-day," she said, "especially for driving. Will you not take off your jacket, for fear of a chill when you go out?"
"I never take cold, thanks," Julia answered; and soon the question followed, in some wonder, "Do you really live here all the year round?"
"Except a month in London at Christmas."
"And you like it?"
Mrs. Ogilvie smiled. "My father does," she said.
"But you?"
"I should not mind a few neighbours near at hand."
"Have you none?"
"None near. I am a fairly good walker, and we have an untirable pony. It is not, perhaps, the life I would choose; but, when a life is chosen for one, apart from one's own wishes, there is the comfort of knowing that it must be right."
"Is Captain Woodthorpe so fond of the country?"