Carstares bowed to his Grace, who stood watching them from the stairs. The bow was returned with exaggerated flourish. Carstares looked down at his wife.
"So soon, Lavinia?" he remonstrated, and indicated her mourning. She shook his hand off impatiently.
"Oh, Dicky, does it matter? What can it signify? I do not ask you to come—"
"No," he said half-sadly, half-amusedly. "I notice that, my dear."
"No, no! I did not mean to be unkind—you must not think that! You don't think it, do you, Dick?"
"Oh, no," he sighed.
"Good Dicky!" She patted his cheek coaxingly. "Then you will allow me to go—ah, but yes, yes, you must listen! You know how dull I am, and how silly—'tis because I need a change, and I want to go to Andover. I want to go!"
"Yes, dear, I know. But my father is not yet dead six weeks, and I cannot think it seemly—"
"Please, Dick, please! Please do not say no! 'Twill make me so unhappy! Oh, you will not be so unkind? You will not forbid me to go?"
"I ask you not to, Lavinia. If you need a change, I will take you quietly to Bath, or where you will. Do not pain me by going to Andover just now."