23, West Parade,
Leamington.
That is it, I know. I am right, Florence, my dear, am I not?”
Miss Vyse did not answer for a moment. Then she said slowly, sulkily, it seemed to Ralph, which confirmed him in his opinion that the address was correct, “Yes, Aunt, you are quite right. But I have the address upstairs; if you wish I can run up and refer to it.”
“No, thank you,” said Ralph, “I am quite satisfied.
23, West Parade,
Leamington.
I shall not forget it,”
“A good thing,” he thought to himself, “that my mother really has a correct memory for addresses. Even if that girl showed me an address in Mrs. Archer’s own writing I should not believe it was correct if it had passed through her hands.”
The greater part of that day he spent in writing to Marion. It was all he could do, and he did it thoroughly; entering without reserve into all his hopes and plans, only passing by, rather more slightly, the probable opposition, his marriage might meet with from his mother, and inferring that any mischief to be apprehended on this score was already done by his having, months before, refused to marry as she wished. He impressed upon Marion that he was far from rich, that indeed for many years to come their life might be a struggling one, and told her the object and success of his visit to London.