She clutched at his arm in sudden terror.
“It will be better if we leave London soon, Harold,” she said. “A maid can be picked up anywhere, and as I have never been used to the luxury, the loss will not cause me any inconvenience. I dread that you may be discovered here by old friends, who will make you forget me!”
He kissed away her tears, and she added, plaintively:
“I should like to live in my mother’s country, Harold. You cannot think how I long to see the blue skies of Italy.”
He shuddered a little, and replied, huskily:
“Yes—yes, Theresa! It is only natural. Now I will speak to Margaret, and this very night we will shake the dust of London from our feet!”
She seemed greatly relieved, and smiled at him through her tears, murmuring:
“How good you are to me, my husband, and how selfish I am!”
“The duty of my life, Theresa, is to love and care for you,” he said. “I believe that Margaret is at the door—yes; and I will speak to her now.”
They were in a private sitting-room, and Miss Nugent’s voice was asking if she might enter.