“But you are, and there’s a look of George about you. And what were you saying about going abroad?”
She was silent.
“Greece”—and she saw that he was thinking the word over—“Greece; but you were to be married this year, I thought.”
“Not till January, it wasn’t,” said Lucy, clasping her hands. Would she tell an actual lie when it came to the point?
“I suppose that Mr. Vyse is going with you. I hope—it isn’t because George spoke that you are both going?”
“No.”
“I hope that you will enjoy Greece with Mr. Vyse.”
“Thank you.”
At that moment Mr. Beebe came back from church. His cassock was covered with rain. “That’s all right,” he said kindly. “I counted on you two keeping each other company. It’s pouring again. The entire congregation, which consists of your cousin, your mother, and my mother, stands waiting in the church, till the carriage fetches it. Did Powell go round?”
“I think so; I’ll see.”