“My dear! Really! What shall I say? You know I only came up for a day or two—on my way to a lot of visits. Came up to see Hannah, who is off for Rome. There are only two servants in the house. I am off again to-morrow; but of course you can stay here if you are sure he doesn’t know where you are.”
“He’ll know nothing for a week.”
“Ah! I have it! How clever of me! I’ll write him that I’ve packed you off to Nevis. That will gain time. Perhaps he’ll go there in search of you —”
“I prefer that the law should free me fairly. I’m sick of lies.”
“The law will do nothing. Put that idea out of your head. Have you any money in hand?”
“About thirty pounds.”
“The duke ought to make you a separate allowance. Possibly he would if you told him how matters stand, and promised to keep quiet.”
“He would not believe me, not for a moment. It is his cherished fiction that no member of the British aristocracy can do wrong, much less a member of his family. He would preach, tell me that I had hysterical delusions, and send for Harold. I prefer him to know nothing about it.”
“I won’t have you in a shop.”
Julia rose.