“I don’t think I should put all my trust in Mr Garstang, my dear,” she said.
“Is not that prejudice, nurse?”
“I hope not my dear; but my heart never warmed to Mr Garstang, and it has always felt very cold toward that young man, his stepson.”
“Harry Dasent? Well,” said Kate, with a faint smile, “perhaps mine has been as cold. But why should we trouble about this? It would be no harm if I asked Mr Garstang’s advice; but if we do not like it, nurse, we can take our own. One thing we decide upon at once: we will leave here.”
“Can we, my dear? You have money, but—”
“Oh, don’t talk about the hateful thing,” cried the girl, passionately.
“I must, my dear. We cannot take even a cottage without. This money is in your uncle’s charge; you, as a girl under age, can not touch a penny without your Uncle James’ consent.”
“But surely he can not keep me here against my will—a prisoner?”
“I don’t know, my dear,” said the woman, with a sigh.
“Then that is where we want help and advice—that is where Mr Garstang could assist me and tell me what to do.”