No, Harvey declined to face that question. It was easy to take refuge in vagueness and delay. He would do all that duty and kindness demanded of him. He had not the smallest intention of curtailing his own expenditure for Hermione's sake or anybody's sake. But people seldom say definitely, "I will do what is wrong." It is always a roundabout road which leads to this goal. Harvey only told himself that he would "think," and then he tried as much as possible to drive thought away.
Hermione seemed scarcely to have begun to realise her own position, or to look forward. It was not till late in the evening that she remarked, as if casually, "Are you going back to Paris?"
"For a short time—a month or so," he said, seizing on the opportunity. "You know that the Fitzalans have kindly asked you to the Rectory until we can come."
"Mr. Fitzalan spoke of it," she said doubtfully. Her eyes were a little heavy, as if from tear-shedding, but her manner was composed.
"It will be best. You cannot stay here alone, and the break will be a good thing."
She said slowly, "You are willing to come now—when he—and all those years—"
"I don't know about being willing. I like the Continent best. But of course we shall have to spend part of the year at Westford." Hermione made no answer, and he felt himself impelled to add, "You know about the entail."
"Yes."
Hermione stood up, as if to move away, and Harvey said, "I think we ought to settle something. Julia will be expecting me."
"Why do you stay away from her?"