‘Oh, there are many reasons. It is not a pleasant house for you to be in.’
Eleanor felt as if Otho’s conduct were being commented upon, and she herself tutored by some one who was much more master of the situation than she was. She did not exactly like it, but she was powerless to resent it; she did not quite know whether she wished even to resent it.
‘It is a dreary house,’ said she at length. ‘It is depressing to me, too. But I don’t know that one may always leave a place just because it happens not to be pleasant.’
‘Ah! You know Otho is going away when I do?’
‘Yes.’
‘I will answer for it that you will not see much more of him till after the Derby Day, and perhaps not then. Don’t you think it would be advisable for you to have a change, too?’
‘A change—in the depth of winter—after being here just six weeks? No, I do not.’
‘You are very decided, I see. Pardon me for pressing the question again. Are you quite decided to stay here?’
‘Yes. Why not? Why should I go away? It is my home, as I said before,’ she said, looking at him rather impatiently.
‘You will be very dull. Otho, you see, has no scruples about leaving you, and will not return an hour the sooner from the knowledge that you are here alone.’