“I didn't know I was leaving till the morning, and I left in the afternoon. A lot of us were changed suddenly. The firm couldn't get enough young ladies to do the work at the Exhibition.”
“But you didn't leave an address.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No, you didn't; I asked the manager, and he told me you had left no address. They didn't know where you had gone.”
“Did he say so? You mean Mr. Fairlie, I suppose—now I come to think of it, it is the rule of the firm not to give information about the young ladies. I am sorry.”
“Are you?”
“I am, really. We had a very pleasant day up the river—Reading; you took me to Reading.”
“Yes; but you would never come again.”
“Wouldn't I? I suppose I couldn't find time—I did enjoy myself. What a lovely day it was.”
“Yes; and do you remember how like a beautiful smile the river lay? And do you remember the bulrushes? I rowed you in among the rushes; you wet the sleeve of your dress plunging your arm in. I remember it, that white plump arm.”