Lionel's face brightened up amazingly; he had been looking forward to
saying good-bye at the station with anything but joy.
"I should be delighted--if I am not in the way," was his prompt answer.
"Oh, Honnor and I are entirely by ourselves at present," said this
elderly lady with the silver-white hair. "We are expecting Lady Adela
and her sisters this week, however; and perhaps my son will come down
later on."
"Are they back from Scotland?"
"They arrive to-morrow, I believe."
"And Lady Adela's novel?"
"Oh, I don't know anything about that," said she, with a good-humored
smile. "Surely she can't have written another novel already!"
When they got into the station, a footman was awaiting them, but they
had no bags or baggage of any description; they walked a little way
along the platform and entered the carriage; presently they were driving
away down to the sea-front. What Honnor Cunyngham thought of the
arrangement, it is impossible to say, but the invitation was none of her
giving: no doubt it was merely a little compliment in acknowledgment of
Mr. Moore's kindness of the preceding night. However, when the barouche
pulled up in front of a house in Adelaide Crescent, Mr.
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