“I have no idea,” said Sir Richard, carving several slices of the ham.
“Why, she told her Papa that she had gone into the spinney last night to meet me!”
Sir Richard laid down the knife and fork. “Good God, why?”
“Oh, for such an idiotic reason that it is not worth recounting! But the thing is, sir, that her Papa is coming to see you about it this morning. She hoped, you see, that if she said she had been in the habit of meeting me clandestinely in Bath—”
“In Bath?” interrupted Sir Richard in a faint voice.
“Yes, she said we had been meeting for ever in Bath, on account of her Great-Aunt Augusta, and not wishing to be sent there again. I quite understand that, but—”
“Then your understanding is very much better than mine,” said Sir Richard. “So far I have not been privileged to understand one word of this story. What has her Great-Aunt Augusta to do with it?”
“Oh, they sent Lydia to stay with her, you see, and she did not like it! She said it was all backgammon and spying. I could not but feel for her over that, for I know exactly what she means.”
“I am glad,” said Sir Richard, with emphasis.
“The thing is, that she thought if she told her Papa that she had met me clandestinely in Bath, he would not send her there again.”