‘Because,’ said Lady Bicknacre in the confidential manner of all matrons when passing on a tidbit of scandal, ‘Nicholas married against his father’s wishes and ran away. Come back—you must come back. He hesitated for a moment and then he followed her. After five or six years it would not be difficult to hide in Italy or in France. Never was heard such a bawling as these unfortunate wights kept up. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. Besides, she had admitted her identity. “Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over. I think that there is no better friend for a girl than a man rather older than herself. I heard rumours of it in Paris, and the place since then has been closed.
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