"No; will you sit with me?"
"You're not feeling very well to-day, are you?"
"I think not," replied Ida, passing her hand over her forehead. "I've been thinking of going out of London for a few days, perhaps to the seaside."
"Go to Weymouth!" cried Sally, delighted at the thought. "Go and see my people, and tell un how I'm getting on. They'll make you bide with un all the time you're there, s'nough. It isn't a big house, but it's comfortable, and see if our mother wouldn't look after you! It's three weeks since I wrote; if I don't mind there'll be our father up here looking after I. Now, do go!"
"No, it's too far. Besides, if I go, I shall want to be quite alone."
On the following evening Waymark was expected. At his last visit he had noticed that Ida was not in her usual spirits. To-night he saw that something was clearly wrong, and when Ida spoke of going to the seaside, he strongly urged her to do so.
"Where should you go to?" he asked.
"I think to Hastings. I went there once, when I was a child, with my mother—I believe I told you. I had rather go there than anywhere else."
"I feel the need of a change myself," he said, a moment after, and without looking at her. "Suppose I were to go to Hastings, too—at the same time that you're there—would you dislike it?"
She merely shook her head, almost indifferently. She did not care to talk much to-night, and frequently nodded instead of replying with words.