“Is Arthur going with you?” asked Flossy, who had been meditating on this simple question ever since she joined them.
“No. Poor boy, he couldn’t make up his mind to it. I should have had to leave him alone a good deal, and he doesn’t seem up to gaieties.”
“Oh, no!”
“No—he laughed in an odd sort of way—and said: that I’d better not help him to cast off from his moorings; but I’m sure being at home doesn’t answer. He has a bright way with him; but I see more and more how he is altered. His eyes have a sort of wretched look, instead of their old jolly one—don’t you know what I mean?”
“Yes; as if he wanted something.”
“Exactly. I think he’ll have to make a change. I wish he could go abroad and begin a new life altogether—in India, or somewhere.”
“Would that be best?” said Florence, slowly.
“I think so. But there’s one thing—Hugh seems to understand him now, and he has got excellent judgment when he likes to use it.”
Poor Flossy! That conversation did not raise her spirits, or prepare her to enjoy her day. There was a dreadful probability in James’s suggestion, and she mused over it while he was talking to his mother and urging her to drive at once to the Archdeacon’s.
“My dear, we have our tickets—we shall see them afterwards.”