"When do you start?" she inquired, before committing herself.
"I want to get off in the evening express," Mrs. Montague returned, watching every expression of the young girl's face.
"In this evening's express?" asked Mona, in surprise.
"Yes. It is short notice, I know," the woman said, smiling; "but I, myself, only knew of the plan yesterday, and, as you know, I was too busy to make any arrangements for it. Will you go, Ruth? We have nothing to do but to pack our trunks."
"I suppose there is no reason why I should not," the young girl returned, musingly, while she told herself that she could send a note to Ray, informing him of her intention. She was not quite sure that he would approve of it, and she wished that she could have known of it the previous day, so that she could have consulted him.
"That is nice of you," Mrs. Montague quickly responded, and assuming that her remark was intended as an assent to the trip; "and now we must at once go about our preparations. How long will it take you to pack?"
"Not long," Mona answered; "I have only my dresses to fold, and my toilet articles to gather up. I have not really unpacked since I came here," she said, smiling; "for I have needed so few things."
"Well, then, get yourself ready; then you may come to help me," Mrs. Montague said, as she arose to go to her own room, and breathing a sigh of relief that this vital point had been gained with so little trouble.
Mona was as expeditious as possible, but, somehow, now that she had given her consent to go, her heart grew unaccountably heavy, and she began to feel a deep aversion to leaving New York.
She wrote a hasty note to Ray, telling him of the intended journey, and how she regretted not being able to consult him, but could not, under the circumstances. She also wrote, as she did not know the route they were to take, she could not tell him where to address her, but would write to him again when she learned where they were to be.