The descendant of the lords of Nevilton meditated for a moment with drooping head, her hands characteristically clasped behind her back. When she lifted up her chin and began to speak, there was the same concentrated light in her eyes and the same imperative tone in her voice.
“The thing for us to do,” she said, speaking hurriedly but firmly, “is to go—all four of us—straight away from here! I’m not going to leave you until things are settled. I’m going to get you all clean out of this,—clean away!”
She paused and looked at Lacrima. “Where’s Mr. Dangelis?” she asked.
Lacrima explained how the artist had written to Gladys that he was staying until the following day at the Gloucester Hotel in Weymouth.
Vennie’s face became radiant when she heard this. “Ah!” she cried, “God is indeed fighting for us! It’s Dangelis that I must see, and see at once. Where better could we all go,—at any rate for tonight—than to Weymouth? We’ll think later what must be done next. Dangelis will help us. I’m perfectly certain he’ll help us.
“Oh yes, we’ll go to Weymouth at once,—before there’s any risk of the Romers stopping us! We’ll walk to Yeoborough—that’ll give us time to think out our plans—and take the train from there.
“I’ll send a telegram to my mother late tonight, when there’s no chance of her communicating with the House. As to being seen in Yeoborough by any Nevilton people, we must risk that! God has been so good to us today that I can’t believe He won’t go on being good to us.
“Oh what a relief it’ll be,—what a relief,—to get away from Nevilton! And I shall be able to dip my hands in the sea!”
While these rapid utterances fell from Vennie’s excited lips, the face of Mr. Quincunx was a wonder to look upon. It was the crisis of his days, and he displayed his knowledge that it was so by more convulsive changes of expression, than perhaps, in an equal stretch of time, had ever crossed the visage of a mortal man.