"To knowledge—knowledge of the unknown. They may speak through her!"
"Lady Meg! Lady Meg! And if they don't, the hundred-pound note! It's very cruel."
"Who knows?—who knows, Pindar? Fate has her ways."
He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Not half as amusing as your ladyship's!"
Sophy, twenty yards off, flung her arms round Julia. The embrace was long; it spoke farewell. Lady Meg's eyes brightened. "She's coming with me," she said. Pindar shrugged his shoulders again and fell back to heel. Sophy walked briskly up.
"I'll come, my lady," she said.
"Good. To-morrow afternoon—to London. Mrs. Brownlow has the address. Good-bye." She turned abruptly on her heel and marched off, her retinue following.
Julia came to Sophy.
"We can write," she said. "And she's right. You must be for the real thing, Sophy!"
"My dear, my dear!" murmured Sophy, half in tears. "Yes, we must write." She drew back and stood erect. "It's all very dark," she said. "But I like it. London—and Paris! On the Seine!" Old lessons came back with new import now.