“Well, Philip, my dear boy,” cried Mrs Otway loudly, “in three days we shall have you back.”
“Yes, in three days,” he replied, glancing at Julia, who must have heard, but who went on with a conversation in which she was engaged with Sir Gordon, unmoved.
“Then good-bye,” she cried, “Mrs Hallam, Miss Hallam, accept my thanks for your kindness to my boy here. Lady Eaton appointed me her deputy, but I’m tired of my sorry task. Good-bye. Are we to be companions back, Sir Gordon?”
“Yes—yes—yes,” said the old gentleman, “I am coming. Remember,” he said, in a low tone to Mrs Hallam.
“I never forget such kindness as yours, Sir Gordon,” she replied.
“Good-bye, Julia, my child,” he said, kissing her hands. “If ever you want help of any kind, come straight to me. Good-bye.”
“If she would only make some appeal to me,” he muttered. “But I can’t interfere without. Poor things! Poor things!”
“I beg your pardon, Sir Gordon,” said Mrs Otway. “What are poor things?”
“Talking to myself, ma’am—talking to myself.”
“You don’t like Philip Eaton,” she said quickly.