There ensued a battle: it was nothing else. What with Miss Davenal's indignation and what with Miss Davenal's deafness, the wordy war that supervened could be called little else. Caroline sat pretty quiet at first, taking her husband's side now and then.
"You tell me you are going to leave Hallingham, and you won't tell me where you are going, or what you are going to do, Mark Cray!" reiterated Miss Davenal.
"I'll tell you more about it when I know more myself."
"But you can tell me what it is; you can tell me where it is. Is it at one of the London hospitals?"
"It is in London," was Mark's answer, allowing the hospital to be assumed.
"Then Mark Cray you are very wicked. And you"--turning to Caroline--"are foolish to uphold him in it. How can you think of giving up such a practice as this?"
"I am tired of Hallingham," avowed Mark with blunt truth, for he was getting vexed.
"You are--what?" cried Miss Davenal, not catching the words.
"Sick and tired of Hallingham. And I don't care who knows it."
Miss Davenal looked at him with some curiosity. "Is he gone out of his senses, Caroline?"