‘We may as well go together, then. I’ll call for you at two o’clock.’
He considered, and changed the hour.
‘No, I’ll come at ten. I want you to go with me to buy some things. Then we’ll have lunch here.’
‘And go back for my luggage?’
‘We’ll take it away at ten o’clock and leave it at the station. I suppose you can be ready?’
‘Yes, I can be ready,’ Adela answered mechanically.
He drove back with her to Avenue Road in the Rodmans’ carriage, and left her at the door.
Mr. Westlake was expected home to-night, but had telegraphed to say that he would return in the morning. Stella had spent the evening alone; Adela found her in the boudoir with a single lamp, reading.
‘Are you still feverish?’ Stella asked, putting to her cheek the ungloved hand.
‘I think not—I can’t say.’