Vesper looked meditatively across the Bay at a zigzag, woolly trail of smoke made by a steamer that was going back and forth in a distressed way, as if unable to find the narrow passage that led to the Bay of Fundy.
"The Checkertons have gone to the White Mountains," said Mrs. Nimmo, in a vexed tone, as if the thought gave her no pleasure. "I should like to join them there."
"Very well, we can leave here to-morrow."
Her face brightened. "But your business?"
"I can send some one to look after it, or Agapit would attend to it."
"And you would not need to come back?"
"Not necessarily. I might do so, however."
"In the event of some of the LeNoirs being found?"
"In the event of my not being able to exist without—the Bay."