“Quite right!” approved the lady radiantly.
Trevor looked at his watch and stood up.
“Your trunk and things, gone up to your room, Vane?” inquired Mrs. Kincton Knox.
“I’ve no trunk; ha, ha! and no things—he, he, he! no, upon my honour. I can’t stay, really; I’m awfully sorry; but my plans were all upset, and I’m going back to the station, and must walk at an awful pace too; only half an hour—a very short visit; well, yes, but I could not deny myself—short as it is—and I hope to look in upon you again soon.”
“It’s very ill-natured, I think,” said Miss Clara.
“Very,” said Mrs. Kincton Knox, yet both ladies were very well pleased to be relieved of Vane Trevor’s agreeable society. He would have been in the way—unutterably de trop. His eye upon their operations would have been disconcerting; he would have been taking the—the tutor long walks, or trying, perhaps, to flirt with Clara, as he did two years ago, and never leaving her to herself. So the regrets and upbraidings with which they followed Vane Trevor, who had unconsciously been helping to mystify them, were mild and a little hypocritical.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE EVENING
