“You wouldn't do anything rash?” Helen pleaded.
“Well, if I run away with Mr. Lessingham, I certainly can't promise that I'll send cards out first. Whatever I do, impulse will probably decide.”
“Impulse!”
“Why not? I trust mine. Can't you?” Philippa added, with a little shrug of the shoulders.
“Sometimes,” Helen sighed, “they are such wild horses, you know. They lead one to such terrible places.”
“And sometimes,” Philippa replied, “they find their way into the heaven where our soberer thoughts could never take us. Good night, dear!”
CHAPTER XVI
Mr. William Hayter, in the solitude of his chambers at the Milan Court, was a very altered personage. He extended no welcoming salutation to his midnight visitor but simply motioned him to a chair.
“Well,” he began, “is your task finished that you are in London?”