“I see,” said Miriam narrowly regarding him. Do you want to be saved—ought I to save you—why should I save you—it is a solution of the whole thing and a use for your money—you won’t marry her when you know how ill she is.
“It is of course the immediate future that causes me anxiety and disquietude. It is there I need your advice and help.”
“I see. Is Miss Dear going to Bournemouth?”
“Well; that is just it. Now that the opportunity is there she seems disinclined to avail herself of it. I hope that you will support me in trying to persuade her.”
“Of course. She must go.”
“I am glad you think so. It is obvious that definite plans must be postponed until she is well and strong.”
“You would be able to go down and see her.”
“Occasionally, as my duties permit, oh yes. It is a very pleasant place and I have friends in Bournemouth who would visit her.”
“She ought to be longing to go” said Miriam on her strange sudden smile. It had come from somewhere; the atmosphere was easier; suddenly in the room with her was the sense of bluebells, a wood blue with bluebells, and dim roofs, roofs in a town ... sur les toits ... and books; people reading books under them.
Mr. Taunton smiled too.