"Oh—it isn't very great, Papa. It's only that I'm going away."
"Going—away?"
"I don't mean out of the country. Only to London."
"Ha! Going to London—" He rolled it ruminatingly on his tongue.
"Well, if that's all you've come to say, it's very simple. You can't go."
He bent his knees with the little self-liberating gesture that he had when he put his foot down.
"But," said Gwenda, "I'm going."
He raised his eyebrows.
"And why is this the first time I've heard of it?"
"Because I want to go without any bother, since I'm going to go."