“That depends,” he laughed. “Ask away, Cely.”
“Is there anything between you and Charlotte Pain?”
“Plenty,” returned George in the lightest possible tone. “As there is between me and a dozen more young ladies. Charlotte, happening to be the nearest, gets most of me just now.”
“Plenty of what?”
“Talking and laughing and gossip. That’s about the extent of it, pretty Cely.”
Cecil wished he would be more serious. “Shall you be likely to marry her?” she breathed.
“Just as likely as I shall be to marry you,” and he spoke seriously now.
Cecil drew a sigh of relief. “Then, George, I will tell you what it is that has helped to vex Janet. You know our servants get talking to Mrs. Verrall’s, and her servants to ours. And the news was brought here that Charlotte Pain has said she should probably be going on a journey: a journey abroad, for six months or so: to some place where she should remain the winter. Margery told Janet: and—and——”
“You construed it, between you, that Charlotte was going to be a partner in my exile! What droll people you must all be!”
“There’s no doubt, George, that Charlotte Pain was heard to say it.”