“Will you come with me?” she said; “for I fear our talk may continue to annoy Mr Stoddart. His hearing is acute at all times, and has been excessively so since his illness.”
“I am at your service,” I returned, and followed her from the room.
“Are you still as fond of the old quarry as you used to be, Miss Oldcastle?” I said, as we caught a glimpse of it from the window of a long passage we were going through.
“I think I am. I go there most days. I have not been to-day, though. Would you like to go down?”
“Very much,” I said.
“Ah! I forgot, though. You must not go; it is not a fit place for an invalid.”
“I cannot call myself an invalid now.”
“Your face, I am sorry to say, contradicts your words.”
And she looked so kindly at me, that I almost broke out into thanks for the mere look.
“And indeed,” she went on, “it is too damp down there, not to speak of the stairs.”