"Gone!" repeats Cecilia, in a still more thunderstruck key than before—"and where are they gone?"
"I do not know."
"Why did they go?"
Jim makes an impatient movement, fidgeting on his chair. "I can only tell you their actions; they told me their motives as little as they did you."
"Gone! Why, they never said a word about it yesterday."
This being of the nature of an assertion—not an interrogation—Jim feels with relief that it does not demand an answer.
"Gone, at seven o'clock in the morning! Why, they could not have had time to pack their things!"
"They left them behind."
The moment that this admission is out of Burgoyne's mouth, he repents having made it; nor does his regret at all diminish under the shower of ejaculations from both sisters that it calls forth.
"Why, it was a regular flit! they must have taken French leave."