"She is," said Dare. "You are right. It is she. We are betrothed. I will fly to her after breakfast."
"You know your own affairs best," said Charles, whose temper had not been improved by the free display of Dare's finer feelings; "but I am not sure you would not do well to fly to Vandon first. It is best to be off with the old love, I believe, before you are on with the new."
"She must at once go away from Vandon," said Dare, stopping short. "She is a scandal, the—the old one. But how to make her go away?"
It was in vain for Charles to repeat that Dare must turn her out. Dare had premonitory feelings that he was quite unequal to the task.
"I may tell her to go," he said, raising his eyebrows. "I may be firm as the rock, but I know her well; she is more obstinate than me. She will not go."
"She must," said Charles, with anger. "Her presence compromises Miss Deyncourt. Can't you see that?"
Dare raised his eyebrows. A light seemed to break in on him.
"Any fool can see that," said Charles, losing his temper.
Dare saw a great deal—many things besides that. He saw that if a friend, a trusted friend, were to manage her dismissal, it would be more easy for that friend than for one whose feelings at the moment might carry him away. In short, Charles was the friend who was evidently pointed out by Providence for that mission.
Charles considered a moment. He began to see that it would not be done without further delays and scandal unless he did it.