She is a maid of wonderful sense.
"Very well, ma'am," she said, without the slightest appearance of surprise.
I sat down and wrote a telegram to Antony. It would just catch him. He was to leave by the night mail:
"I have seen Muriel and I know. Lady Tilchester has been
always kind to me. Do not come. Good-bye."
Then I took it to the post-office myself.
That night we left for Lucerne—McGreggor and Roy and I.
VI
It being August, crowds of tourists faced me everywhere. Lucerne, which I had always heard was such a pretty place, filled me with loathing. I only stayed a day there. At last, after stopping in several places, we arrived one afternoon at Zuïebad. Here, at least, there were no tourists, only ugly rheumatic invalids, and unattractive. What made me choose such a place I do not know, unless it was because I happened to see the name printed large upon the map. Any place would do. I had not felt much in my rapid rush. A numbness, as of a limb cut off, an utter indifference to everything in life.
But when I found myself alone in the vast pine-woods, an anguish, as of physical pain, took possession of me. Every tree spoke to me of Antony. The surroundings were all perfect.
What would he do? Would he follow me and try to persuade me to alter my mind? Oh no, he could never do that. He would know that this must be final. What had been his idea all along? How could he think I should never find out, and having done so, that I would ever accept such a position?