“Oh, do tell me who?”
“You’d be none the wiser. It’s a Mr. Victor Sutton.”
“Victor Sutton!” she exclaimed, with a glance at Charlie which passed unnoticed by him. “Is he a friend of yours?”
“I suppose so. Of my family’s, anyhow.”
“Good-by. I’m going,” she announced.
“You’ll be here to-morrow?”
“Yes. For the last time.”
She dropped this astounding thunderbolt on Charlie’s head as though it had been the most ordinary remark in the world.
“The last time! Oh, Miss—-” No: somehow he could not lay his tongue to that “Miss Brown.”
“I can’t spend all my life in Lang Marsh,” said she.