“Well, you aren’t going to do it any more,” she answered, and her tone had so domestic a flavor that he kissed her again.
Plimpton met them in the hall, and Nellie lost no time.
“Pack Mr. Vickers’s things at once, please,” she said, and would have passed on, but she was arrested by Plimpton’s voice.
“Whose, Madam?” he asked; like many men of parts, he believed that to be puzzled and to be insulted are much the same thing.
“Mine, Plimpton, mine,” said Vickers. “And just for once leave out as much of the tissue paper and cotton wool as possible. I’ve a train to catch.”
“And tell my maid to pack something for me—as much as she can get into a valise; and tea at once, Plimpton.”
Plimpton did not say that he totally disapproved of the whole plan, but his tone was very cold, as he said that tea was already served in the drawing-room.
“Goodness only knows when we shall see food again,” Nellie remarked as she sat down behind the tea-kettle.
“I can hardly catch my train, Nellie.”
“No matter. We can drive over to the other line—nine or ten miles.”