During the afternoon Knight had been to his lodgings
at Richmond to make a little change in the nature of his baggage;
and on coming up again there was never ushered by a bland waiter
into a comfortable room a happier man than Knight when shown to
where Elfride and her step-mother were sitting after a fatiguing
day of shopping.
Elfride looked none the better for her change: Knight was as brown
as a nut. They were soon engaged by themselves in a corner of the
room. Now that the precious words of promise had been spoken, the
young girl had no idea of keeping up her price by the system of
reserve which other more accomplished maidens use. Her lover was
with her again, and it was enough: she made her heart over to him
entirely.
Dinner was soon despatched. And when a preliminary round of
conversation concerning their doings since the last parting had
been concluded, they reverted to the subject of to-morrow's
journey home.
'That enervating ride through the myrtle climate of South Devon--
how I dread it to-morrow!' Mrs. Swancourt was saying. 'I had
hoped the weather would have been cooler by this time.'
'Did you ever go by water?' said Knight.
'Never--by never, I mean not since the time of railways.'
'Then if you can afford an additional day, I propose that we do
it,' said Knight. 'The Channel is like a lake just now. We
should reach Plymouth in about forty hours, I think, and the boats
start from just below the bridge here' (pointing over his shoulder
eastward).
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