“I believe that is where she has gone. She must have remembered it,” said Mr Morison. “What shall we do?”
“I shall start at once,” said Godfrey. ”‘T. Dawson,’ whoever he is, will not be so startled by me as by any one else, as he has sent on this letter to me. And of course there will be no treachery to Arthur in his telling me if Miss Morison has been there.”
“Perhaps it is the best thing to do,” said Mr Morison, “though I would gladly have gone myself.”
“And I do so hope you will bring Lettice back with you,” said Nina.
And almost before they had realised his apparition among them, he was gone.
“Another long miserable day of waiting for telegrams,” said poor Nina piteously. And then determining to follow sensible Miss Branksome’s advice, she went in search of her, to beg her to suggest some employment to make the time of suspense pass more quickly.
“Give me some piece of hard work, please. A very difficult German translation might do, or a piece of very fine old lace to mend.” And poor Miss Branksome was cudgelling her brains as to what to propose, when Mrs Morison’s voice, calling Nina, interrupted them.
“Nina, I want you,” said her aunt. “Will you help me to write some notes and to attend to several little things I want done quickly? For I have just had a word from Philip Dexter. He has come back, and is to be here at luncheon, and I should not like to be busy the first time he comes after so long.”
Thus occupation was found both for Nina’s fingers and thoughts.
Late, very late that evening, a lady in mourning got out of the train at a junction far away in the north.