"My dear?"
"Mamma has a letter from my aunt, Lady Malmerstoke."
"So? And what does she say therein?"
"She—she wants me to go to her for the season."
Sir Maurice looked down at her.
"And you are going?"
"I don't—know. I—do not wish to leave you, sir."
"That is very kind of you, child. But I'd not have you stay for my sake."
"It's no such thing, sir. I do not want to go."
"Why, Cleone, not for the season? Think of the balls and the routs."