"Of course I shall," said May; and detecting the plaintiveness of her own voice, she added: "I shall have to come and see it again—as I said—perhaps ten years hence, when—when it will be different! It will be most interesting."
He moved slowly away as if he was going out, and then stopped.
"I shall manage to be in time to see you off," he said, as if some alteration in his plans suddenly occurred to him. "I shall manage it."
"You mustn't put off anything important for me," May called softly after him. "In these days women don't expect to be looked after; we are getting mighty independent," and there was much courage in her voice.
He wavered at the door. "You don't forbid me to come?" he questioned, and he turned and looked at her.
"Of course not," said May, and she turned away quickly and went to the window and looked out. "I hope I am not brazenly independent!" She added this last sentence airily at the window and stared out of it, as if attracted by something in the quadrangle.
She heard him go out and shut the door.
She waited some little time doing nothing, standing still by the window—very still. Then she went out of the room, up the staircase and into the corridor towards her aunt's bedroom.
She knocked and went in.
Lady Dashwood turned round and looked at her. Something in May's face arrested her.