“But do you propose to stay at Fanes all the year round?”
“No. You’ll want some sort of a holiday, of course. I dare say I could get away for a fortnight or so in January; things are pretty slack then.”
Angela was silent for a space; then she said, with some firmness: “I’m afraid I shall have to be a good deal away, then; I must be in London sometimes to attend meetings and look after the different societies in which I am interested. I shall ask Mrs. Prideaux to put me up; that is pleasanter than going to a hotel.”
“Do you mean, you go up without me?”
“As you can’t get away, I suppose I must.”
“I shouldn’t like that at all.”
“Why not?”
“It’s jolly bad for husband and wife not to be together. A woman’s place is with her husband. Besides, people are safe to talk, and that’s a thing I can’t stand. I guess I’ll have to come up with you when you’re obliged to go. I dare say you’ll chuck a good many of the things after we’re married; girls generally do.”
“Can’t you trust me in London alone?” Angela said, in a very quiet voice.
“No, I can’t—” Bernard was beginning, in all innocence, wishing to point out to Angela the perils of the London streets, where she had lived all her life, when she suddenly amazed him by withdrawing her hand very decidedly, and facing him in an unmistakably belligerent attitude.