“Going foreign?” asked the captain.
“Yes, I am going abroad again,” answered Cartoner, and there was a sudden ring of exultation in his voice. For this was after all, a man of action who had strayed into a profession of which the strength is to sit still.
XXVI
IN THE SPRING
The Mangles passed the winter at Warsaw, and there learned the usual lesson of the traveller: that countries reputed hot or cold are neither so hot nor so cold as they are represented. The winter was a hard one, and Warsaw, of all European cities, was, perhaps, the last that any lady would select to pass the cold months in.
“I have my orders,” said Mangles, rather grimly, “and I must stay here till I am moved on. But the orders say nothing about you or Netty. Go to Nice if you like.”
And Julie seemed half inclined to go southward. But for one reason or another—reasons, it may be, put forward by Netty in private conversation with her aunt—the ladies lingered on.
“The place is dull for you,” said Mangles, “now that Cartoner seems to have left us for good. His gay and sparkling conversation would enliven any circle.”
And beneath his shaggy brows he glanced at Netty, whose smooth cheek did not change color, while her eyes met his with an affectionate smile.