"Two or three—! Where are you going?" Julian demanded.
"Greta thinks London."
"London?"
"Well, there is the National Gallery, and the old city churches," Nan said, with marked absence of enthusiasm. "Oh, I don't doubt really but I shall find it perfectly fascinating.... And then from time to time Greta will run up for a day or two."
"It isn't my business," Julian said, in that tone people use when they have definitely adopted the business in question, "but it sounds to me the very poorest—" He left it hanging there.
"Surely," Napier observed quietly, "when you came, you meant to stay longer?"
"Oh—yes! when I first came. But, you see, I didn't understand. I thought being a governess here was like being a governess at home." And quickly, as though to obliterate any suggestion of odious comparison, "Perhaps it's because we have so few governesses in California."
"Well, does that make it different for them?"
"Well, we give them time to themselves. I—I don't criticize your way," she threw in, a little flustered to find where she was going—"only we—Oh, here is Lady McIntyre!" she ended with much relief.
The manners of the lady of Kirklamont were in marked contrast to her pinched and chilled appearance. Her fairness was the kind that goes with a slightly reddened nose and a faint, bluish tinge about the mouth at this hour of the morning. She was most genial to Miss Ellis, and the girl was, in her turn, won to ease and confidence.