“It’s great nonsense, all the same,” said Fanny.

“It isn’t nonsense at all,” said Florence; “and if it were it would not signify.  Is it true?  That’s the question.”

“I’m sure it’s true,” said Fanny.

“And so am I,” said Florence.  “I don’t want any one to tell me that.”

“Then why did you ask, you simpleton?” Florence indeed was having a happy time of it at Clavering rectory.  When Fanny called her a simpleton, she threw her arms round Fanny’s neck and kissed her.

And Harry kept his resolve about the work too, investigating plans with a resolution to understand them which was almost successful.  During those days he would remain at his office till past four o’clock, and would then walk away with Theodore Burton, dining sometimes in Onslow Crescent, and going there sometimes in the evening after dinner.  And when there he would sit and read; and once when Cecilia essayed to talk to him, he told her to keep her apron-strings to herself.  Then Theodore laughed and apologized, and Cecilia said that too much work made Jack a dull boy; and then Theodore laughed again, stretching out his legs and arms as he rested a moment from his own study, and declared that, under those circumstances, Harry never would be dull.  And Harry, on those evenings, would be taken up-stairs to see the bairns in their cots; and as he stood with their mother looking down upon the children, pretty words would be said about Florence and his future life; and all was going merry as a marriage bell.  But on that morning, when the note had come from Lady Ongar, Harry could work no more to his satisfaction.  He scrawled upon his blotting-paper, and made no progress whatsoever toward the understanding of anything.  It was the day on which, in due course, he would write to Florence; and he did write to her.  But Florence did not show this letter to Fanny, claiming for it any need of godlike perfection.  It was a stupid, short letter, in which he declared that he was very busy and that his head ached.  In a postscript he told her that he was going to see Lady Ongar that evening.  This he communicated to her under an idea that by doing so he made everything right.  And I think that the telling of it did relieve his conscience.

He left the office soon after three, having brought himself to believe in the headache, and sauntered down to his club.  He found men playing whist there, and, as whist might be good for his head, he joined them.  They won his money, and scolded him for playing badly till he was angry, and then he went out for a walk by himself.  As he went along Piccadilly, he saw Sophie Gordeloup coming toward him, trotting along, with her dress held well up over her ankles, eager, quick, and, as he said to himself clearly intent upon some mischief.  He endeavored to avoid her by turning up the Burlington Arcade, but she was too quick for him, and was walking up the arcade by his side before he had been able to make up his mind as to the best mode of ridding himself of such a companion.