“Where?”
“To the other side of the channel. Perhaps by that time my ideas will have taken shape. At present they only consist of hazy notions of the coast of Brittany—unoriginal, but that’s what I suffer from being just at present.”
When Mrs Marchmont heard of this move, she was greatly disconcerted.
“I did not expect,” she remarked, severely, “that you would have left the field in this fashion.”
“I don’t find myself in the field at all, that’s the truth,” Everitt said, with a laugh.
“Well, you might have been there,” she said. “Pray, do you expect me to keep off other people?”
“I expect nothing,” he replied. “Seeing what a mess I have made of the thing myself, it would be unjust to suppose that others are to set it right.”
“Where are you going?” she demanded, suddenly. “At any rate, keep me informed of your movements, so that if there should be anything to write—”
“Would you be so kind!” he said, eagerly. “But, of course, there can’t.”
Still he told her what there was to tell, and gave her a list of places where he would apply for letters. With these in her mind, Mrs Marchmont went off the next day to the Lascelles’, at a time when she knew that Kitty was out. She saw Mrs Lascelles.