Chris lit a cigarette.
"If you could get a friend to go with you, there's no reason why you shouldn't go to Wales or Ireland," he said, his eyes bent on his task.
Marie stared at him; she could feel the color receding from her cheeks. So he did not mean to take her himself!
She became conscious that she had been sitting there dumbly for many minutes; she roused herself with an effort.
"Perhaps I will—later on," she said.
The pearl necklace of which she had been so proud a moment ago felt like a leaden weight on her throat. She wondered hopelessly what he was going to say next, and once again the little streak of happiness that had touched her heart faded and died away.
And then all at once she seemed to understand; perhaps the steady way in which he kept his eyes averted from her told her a good deal, or perhaps little Marie Celeste was growing wise, for she leaned towards him and said rather breathlessly trying to smile:
"You are very anxious to dispose of me! Why don't you find a friend and go away for the autumn too?"
She waited in an agony for his reply, and it seemed a lifetime till it came.
"Well, Aston Knight said something about it when I saw him last night. You remember Aston Knight?"