It isn't more than thirty yards square, and there
is a cliff path down to the beach. Isabel loves the place. The yacht is
there too, and we go for cruises on calm days. I am hoping Isabel may
pick up a little there, and she is always more herself when you are with
her. You won't disappoint her, will you?"
A great-shiver went through Dinah. "I can't come," she said, almost under
her breath. "It just--isn't possible."
"What is there to prevent?" he asked.
She moved a little, and lifted her head from its resting-place. "Ever so
many things," she said.
"You are thinking of Eustace?" he questioned. "He has gone already--gone
to town. He will probably go abroad; but in any case he will not get in
your way."
"I wasn't thinking of him," Dinah said.
"Then of what?" he questioned. "Your mother? I will see her, and make
that all right."
She started and lifted her face. "Oh no! Oh no! You must never dream of
doing that!" she declared, with sudden fevered urgency. "I couldn't bear
you to see her. You mustn't think of it, indeed--indeed! Why I would
even--even sooner go back myself."
"Then I must write to her," he said, gently ceding the point. "It is not
essential that I should see her. Possibly even, a letter would be
preferable."
Dinah's face had flushed fiery red. She did not meet his eyes. "I don't
see why you should have anything to do with her," she said.
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