“I have made all my farewells,” she said; “and how have you been getting on?” And she invited him to re-enter the hotel.
“I am ready to depart at this moment,” he said somewhat fiercely, “and was only thinking how I could extricate myself from that horrible dinner to-day at the Count of Ferroll’s.”
“Well, that is not difficult,” said Myra; “you can write a note here if you like, at once. I think you must have seen quite enough of the Count of Ferroll and his friends.”
Endymion sat down at the table, and announced his intended non-appearance at the Count’s dinner, for it could not be called an excuse. When he had finished, his sister said—
“Do you know, we were nearly having a travelling companion to-morrow?”
He looked up with a blush, for he fancied she was alluding to some previous scheme of Lady Montfort. “Indeed!” he said, “and who?”
“Adriana.”
“Adriana!” he repeated, somewhat relieved; “would she leave her family?”
“She had a fancy, and I am sure I do not know any companion I could prefer to her. She is the only person of whom I could truly say, that every time I see her, I love her more.”
“She seemed to like Paris very much,” said Endymion a little embarrassed.