“That they are both gone abroad—to America or Australia—so I’ve been given to understand.”
Peace was perfectly astounded.
“Gone abroad?” he iterated.
“Well—yes; and the best thing they could do. They are both young and good-looking, and will do a great deal better in either of those places than they did in this over-taxed country. Working people have not much of a chance here.”
The speaker was a Radical of the most pronounced type, and attributed the greater part of the ills which afflict the working class to over-taxation and an oppressive aristocracy.
Peace was in no mood to discuss the question—he was too much overwhelmed by the account given by the landlord of the women’s sudden flight.
“I shouldn’t bother myself much about them, if I were you, Peace,” said the landlord. “It’s all for the best, depend upon that. They behaved fair and square to me, and I wish them both well.”
“Yes—right you are—I won’t bother myself. They are gone, and joy go with them. Thank you for the information.”
And wishing the man a hearty farewell, he took his departure.
He visited some of his old haunts in the town, and lodged for the night at a coffee-house.