"We shall see," said the wise man.
She dashed, that afternoon, into her sister's tiny flat in Chelsea. Emily, taken by surprise, hastily stuffed to the bottom of her work-basket a man's silk tie which she was knitting, and then greeted Zora affectionately.
She was shorter, slimmer, paler than her sister: of a certain babyish prettiness. She had Mrs. Oldrieve's weak mouth and gentle ways.
"Why, Zora, who would have thought of seeing you? What are you doing in town?"
"Getting hats and frocks—a trousseau of freedom. I've left Nunsmere. I'm on my own."
Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were flushed. She caught Emily to her bosom.
"Oh, darling! I'm so happy—a bird let out of a cage."
"An awful big bird," laughed Emily.
"Yes, let out of an awful small cage. I'm going to see the world, for the first time in my life. I'm going to get out of the cold and wet—going South—to Italy—Sicily—Egypt—anywhere."
"All by yourself?"