Sylvia's galloping thoughts were pulled suddenly up by his silence; she felt that he wanted her to say something, but she could think of nothing besides an ambiguous—
'Well?'
'And I'm off to London i' t' morning,' added he, a little wistfully, almost as if beseeching her to show or express some sorrow at a journey, the very destination of which showed that he would be absent for some time.
'To Lunnon!' said she, with some surprise. 'Yo're niver thinking o' going to live theere, for sure!'
Surprise, and curiosity, and wonder; nothing more, as Philip's instinct told him. But he reasoned that first correct impression away with ingenious sophistry.
'Not to live there: only to stay for some time. I shall be back, I reckon, in a month or so.'
'Oh! that's nought of a going away,' said she, rather petulantly. 'Them as goes to t' Greenland seas has to bide away for six months and more,' and she sighed.
Suddenly a light shone down into Philip's mind. His voice was changed as he spoke next.
'I met that good-for-nothing chap, Kinraid, wi' yo'r father just now. He'll ha' been here, Sylvie?'
She stooped for something she had dropped, and came up red as a rose.