'What were his words, papa?'
'I don't remember words. He runs over to France, whenever it suits him, to carry on there . . .' The colonel ended in a hum and buzz.
'Has he been to France lately?' asked Cecilia.
Her breath hung for the answer, sedately though she sat.
'The woman's father is dead, I hear,' Colonel Halkett remarked.
'But he has not been there?'
'How can I tell? He's anywhere, wherever his passions whisk him.'
'No!'
'I say, yes. And if he has money, we shall see him going sky-high and scattering it in sparks, not merely spending; I mean living immorally, infidelizing, republicanizing, scandalizing his class and his country.'
'Oh no!' exclaimed Cecilia, rising and moving to the window to feast her eyes on driving clouds, in a strange exaltation of mind, secretly sure now that her idea of Nevil's having gone over to France was groundless; and feeling that she had been unworthy of him who strove to be 'worthier of her, as he hoped to become.'