I reflected. If she went alone it would be almost as hard for Frances as if I went with her. And the temptation was very strong. The desire to see her once more, only once....
“I'll go, Hephzy,” I said. I didn't mean to say it; the words seemed to come of themselves.
“You will! Oh, I'm so glad! I'm so glad! And I think—I think you'll be glad, too, Hosy. I'm hopin' you will.”
“I'll go,” I said. “But this is the last time you and I must trouble her. I'll go—not because of any reason you have given me, Hephzy, but because I believe there must be some other and stronger reason, which you haven't told me.”
Hephzy drew a long breath. She seemed to be struggling between a desire to tell me more—whatever that more might be—and a determination not to tell.
“Maybe there is, Hosy,” she said, slowly. “Maybe there is. I—I—Well, there! I must go and buy the tickets. You sit down and wait. I'm skipper of this craft to-day, you know. I'm in command on this voyage.”
Leatherhead looked exactly as it had on our previous visit. “Ash Clump,” the villa which the Crippses had been so anxious for us to hire, was still untenanted, or looked to be. We walked on until we reached the Cripps home and entered the Cripps gate. I rang the bell and the maid answered the ring.
In answer to our inquiries she told us that Mr. Cripps was not in. He and Mrs. Cripps had gone to chapel. I remembered then that the day was Sunday. I had actually forgotten it.
“Is Miss Morley in?” asked Hephzy.
The maid shook her head.