"He could scarcely refuse it," Agnes replied. "It is a decided advance; he likes the life abroad, and it might even lead to something better in the future; at least one rather fancies such things are an opening."
"It is true," reflected Mrs. Merriam, "that he seems to have no particular ties to hold him in one place rather than another."
"None," said Agnes. "I don't know whether that is his fortune or his misfortune."
"His fortune," said Mrs. Merriam. "He is of the nature to know how to value them. Perhaps, after all, he may form them if he goes abroad. It is not too late."
"Perhaps so," said Agnes. "That would be another reason why it would be better for him to go."
"Still," remarked Mrs. Merriam, "for my own part, I don't call it good news that he is going."
"I meant," said Agnes, "good news for him."
"It is bad news for us," Mrs. Merriam replied. "He will leave a gap. I have grown inconveniently fond of him myself."
But Agnes made no response, and soon afterward went to her room in silence. She was rather silent the next day when she made her visit to Bertha. Mrs. Merriam observed that she was rather silent at home; but, having seen her retire within herself before, she was too just to assign a definite reason for her quiet mood. Still she watched her with great interest, which had a fashion of deepening when Laurence Arbuthnot appeared upon the scene. But there was no change in her manner toward Arbuthnot. She was glad to see him; she was interested in his plans. Her gentle pleasure in his society seemed neither greater nor less than usual; her gentle regret at his approaching absence from their circle said absolutely nothing. In the gayeties of the closing season they saw even more of each other than usual.