His jaw dropped, and he looked back at her blankly.
"I'd forgotten her," he said.
"To see our luggage detained—it could only mean the one thing! Humphrey, what would she think? What can we do? She mustn't, mustn't know; I should die of shame."
"No," he said; "she mustn't know, that's certain. Good Lord! what an infernal complication at the last minute! I don't know what's to be done, I'm sure. Take the child in to her, and let's think!"
He filled a pipe, and puffed furiously, until Cynthia came back.
"Couldn't we," he suggested—-"couldn't we say that as we're at the point of going home, we don't think it's worth while carting the heavy trunks to another place? Madame Garin has 'kindly allowed us to leave them here in the meantime.' Eh?"
Cynthia mused.
"Then, what are we going to another place ourselves for?" she said.
"Yes," said Kent; "that won't do. Hang the woman! she's a perfect bugbear to us; we're all the time struggling to live up to the teapot. I wish to heaven we could get rid of her altogether!"
"That," answered the girl, after a pause—"that is the only thing we can do. We must send her away, and I'll take baby."