"I'm leaving a letter for Mr. Trenby--to explain. See that he has it as soon as he gets back to-morrow."
And once again Morton answered respectfully:
The writing of the letter did not occupy much time. She reflected that she must take one of two courses. Either she must write him at length, explaining everything--and somehow she felt it would be impossible to explain to Roger her desperate need for flight, for a respite from things as they were--or she must leave a brief note merely stating that she had gone away. She decided on the latter and after several abortive attempts, which found their ultimate fate in the fire, she achieved the following telegraphic epistle:
"DEAR ROGER,--Have gone to town. Stopping with Penelope.--NAN."
Afterwards she packed with gleeful hands. It seemed too good to be true that in twenty-four hours she would actually find herself back in London--away from this gloomy, tree-girdled house with its depressing atmosphere both outside and in, away from Lady Gertrude's scathing tongue and Isobel's two-edged speeches, and, above all, secure for a time from Roger's tumultuous love-making and his unuttered demand for so much more than she could ever give him.
She craved for the rush and bustle of London, for the play that might keep her from thinking, the music which should minister to her soul, and, more than all, she longed to see the beloved familiar faces--to see Penelope and Ralph and Lord St. John. She felt as though for the last three months she had been dwelling in some dreadful unknown world, with only boy Sandy to cling to out of the whole unnerving chaos.
"You blessed child! I _am_ glad to see you!"
Penelope, looking the happiest and most blooming of youthful matrons, was on the platform when the Cornish express steamed into Waterloo station and Nan alighted from it. The two girls embraced warmly.
"You can't--you can't possibly be as glad as I am, Penny mine," returned Nan. "Hmf!"--wrinkling up her nose. "_How_ nice London smells!"
Penelope burst out laughing. Nan nodded at her seriously.
"I mean it. You've no idea how good that smoky, petrolly smell is after the innocuous breezes of the country. It's full of gorgeous suggestions of cars and people and theatres and--and life!"