She was enraged at the folly of her own
remark, at Rose's self-possession, and at her possible possession of
Francis Sales. She could not unsay what she had said and, having said
it, she did not know how to go on living with Aunt Rose; but she was
going to Wellsborough again and this time she need not come back: yet
she must come back to see Francis Sales. And though there was no one
in the world to whom she could express the torment of her mind she
could, at least, make Charles unhappy.
Rose and Sophia were chatting pleasantly, and Henrietta pushed back
her chair. 'Will you excuse me? I have to catch a train.'
Rose inclined her head: Sophia said, 'Yes, dear, go. Where did you say
you were going?'
'To Wellsborough.'
'Ah, yes. Caroline and I--Be careful to get into a ladies' carriage,
Henrietta.'
'I'm going with Charles Batty,' she said dully.
'Ah, then, you will be safe.'
Safe! Yes, she was perfectly safe with Charles. He would sit with his
hands hanging between his knees and stare. She was sick of him and, if
she dared, she would whisper during the music; at any rate, she would
shuffle her feet and make a noise with the programme. And to-morrow
she would emulate her aunt and waylay Francis Sales. There would be no
harm in copying Aunt Rose, a pattern of conduct! She had done it
before, she would do it again and they would see which one of them was
to be victorious at the last.
She fulfilled her intentions.
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