“I hear you are going to London,” said Charlotte. “You have found some situation there, George Godolphin tells me.”
Isaac threw his eyes—they were just like the Rector’s—straight and full into her face. In her present spirit, half mischievous, half defiant, she had expressly paraded the name of George, as her informant, and Isaac thoroughly understood her. Charlotte’s eyes were dancing with a variety of expressions, but the chief one was good-humoured malice.
“I am going into a bank in Lombard-street. Mr. Godolphin got me into it.”
“You won’t like it,” said Charlotte.
“I dare say not. But I think myself lucky to get it.”
“There will be one advantage,” continued Charlotte good-naturedly—“you can come and see us. You know Mrs. Verrall’s address. Come as often as you can; every Sunday, if you like; any week-day evening: I’ll promise you a welcome beforehand.”
“You are very kind,” briefly returned Isaac. They were walking slowly to the gate, and he held it open for her.
“What’s Reginald doing?” she asked. “Have you heard from him lately?”
“Not very lately. You are aware that he is in London, under a master of navigation, preparatory to passing for second officer. As soon as he has passed, he will go to sea again.”
“When you write to him, give him our address, and tell him to come and see me. And now good-bye,” added Charlotte heartily. “And mind you don’t show yourself a muff, Mr. Isaac, but come and see us. Do you hear?”