When Frank returned, it was with a face that appalled her by its blank despair, as he again flung himself down beside her.
“She is gone,” he said.
“Gone!”
“Gone, and with the Strangeways. I saw her.”
“Spoke to her?”
“Oh no. The carriage turned the corner as I crossed the road. The two girls were there, and she—”
“Going with them to the station?”
“I thought so; I went to the house, meaning to leave my enclosure for Sir Harry and meet her on her way back; but I heard she was gone to stay with Lady Susan in Yorkshire. Sir Harry was not up, nor Lady Tyrrell.”
Mrs. Poynsett’s hope failed, though she was relieved that Camilla’s tongue had not been in action. She was dismayed at the prone exhausted manner in which Frank lay, partly on the floor, partly against her couch, with his face hidden.
“Do you know where she is gone?”