"You're not going?"—her tone was sharp.
"No," he said. "I'll tell her I am under contract to exhibit myself exclusively at a music-hall.—And besides, I have to run up to London. I want to give old Dawson the fright he deserves. He must have been in a frantic hurry to wipe me out of his books. What on earth made you choose him to hunt for me?"
"Take Susan with you," said Lady Henrietta. "Go with him, my child, and don't let him out of your sight."
"I don't think she would like it," said Barnaby, doubtfully, but his mother was not to be gainsaid. It was almost as if the mention of Julia had revived a vague apprehension in her, as if she were afraid to let him go by himself. He submitted, laughing.
"Well," he said, "if you'll lend her your fur coat I'll wrap her in that and take her. We'll go up in the morning and come down at five;—and she can amuse herself getting clothes."
He bent down to Susan.
"If you don't mind," he said, half in a whisper; his tone was apologetic. "I think you had better come."
And so they went up together.
In the train he supplied her with an armful of picture papers, and she studied them gravely, hidden from him behind their outstretched pages, till they reached London, when she had to put down her screen. Once only he interrupted her.
"Look at that," he said.