Soon after this they parted. Something was said about to-morrow, but they finally left all arrangements to be made when Maurice should appear, which it was supposed he would do at dinner to the Dightons, and after it to the Costellos.
Dinner had been long over in the little apartment in the Champs Elysées when Maurice arrived there. The mother and daughter were sitting together as usual, but in unusual silence—Lucia absorbed in thought, Mrs. Costello watching and wondering, but still refraining from asking questions. Maurice came in, looking pale and tired. Lucia got up, and drew a chair for him near her mother. It was done with a double object; she wanted to express her grateful affection, and she wanted to manage so as to be herself out of his sight. He neither resisted her manœuvre nor even saw it, but sat down wearily and began to reply to her mother's questions.
"I have been out of town. I had seen nothing of the country round Paris, so I thought I would make an excursion."
"An excursion all alone?"
"Yes; I have been to St. Denis."
"How did you go?"
"By rail. I started to come back by an omnibus I saw out there, but I did not much care about that mode of conveyance, so I got out and walked."
"Have you seen Lady Dighton?"
"I have seen no one. I am but just come back."
"Maurice! Have you not dined, then?"