Routh stood before her quite silent.
"You know--you remember," she said with a smile, "Arthur Felton. By-the-by, you need not make faces about my wearing his photograph any more, for I've lost it--lost it before I got home yesterday. In fact, I suspect he is in some trouble--perhaps in some disgrace--and I have no fancy for being here when he arrives, to have him quarrelling with me if I avoid him, and his father regarding me with horror if I don't; so--" and here she knelt on the white rug and stretched out her hands to the fire, which shone reflected in her upraised eyes--"so I am going to--" She paused, tantalizing him.
"To--?" he repeated after her, almost in a whisper.
"To London," she said; and laughed and looked at him, and rose. "Now sit down, and let us talk it over, and be reasonable."
Still quite silent, Routh obeyed her. His manner, his look was changed. He was thoughtful; but an air of relief had come upon him, as if unexpected help had reached him from an unforeseen quarter.
There was no light in the window, as Routh passed it by, returning to his lodgings. But there was a lamp in the hall, at which he lighted a candle, and went into the sitting-room.
Harriet was still sitting by the window; she did not raise or turn her head, and Routh thought she was sleeping. He went up close to her, and then she languidly opened her eyes and rose.
"Have you fallen asleep here, in the dark, Harriet?" said Routh, "and without a fire! How imprudent and unnecessary!"
"I am not cold," she said; but she shivered slightly as she spoke. Routh took up a shawl which lay upon a chair and wrapped it round her. She looked at him, quietly but sharply.
"Don't be afraid; I am all right to-night, Harry," he said. "I've won a lot of money at the tables, and I've been thinking over what we were saying this morning--" He paused a moment, and then went on with some constraint in his voice: "I think you are right so far, that the sooner we get away from this the better. I will consider the rest of the matter when we get to London."