There was silence again. Then Nelly rose to her feet. She pressed her hair back from her white face.
'I don't want any supper, Bridget. I think—I should like to go to bed.'
Bridget helped her to undress. It was now nearly dark and she drew down the blinds. When she looked again at Nelly, she saw her lying white and still, her wide eyes fixed on vacancy.
'I found a visitor downstairs,' she said, abruptly. 'It was Sir William
Farrell.'
Nelly shewed no surprise, or interest. But she seemed to find some words mechanically.
'Why did he come?'
Bridget came to the bedside.
'He wants us to go and stay at his flat—their flat. He and his sister have it together—in St. James' Square. He wants us to go to-morrow. He's going back to Carton. There are two servants there. We shouldn't have any trouble. And you'd be close to D—— Street. Any news they got they could send round directly.'
Nelly closed her eyes.
'I don't care where we go,' she said, under her breath.