George. Norah and Bee were at the Tharps', so that there was no
one to take leave of but old Roy, the Skye; and lest that leave-taking
should prove too much for her, she took him with her to the station.
For her husband she left a little note, placing it where she knew he
must see it at once, and no one else see it at all.
"DEAR HORACE,
"I have gone up to London to be with George. My address will be Green's
Hotel, Bond Street. You will remember what I said last night. Perhaps
you did not quite realise that I meant it. Take care of poor old Roy,
and don't let them give him too much meat this hot weather. Jackman
knows better than Ellis how to manage the roses this year. I should like
to be told how poor Rose Barter gets on. Please do not worry about me. I
shall write to dear Gerald when necessary, but I don't feel like writing
to him or the girls at present.
"Good-bye, dear Horace; I am sorry if I grieve you.
"Your wife,
"MARGERY PENDYCE."
Just as there was nothing violent in her manner of taking this step,
so there was nothing violent in her conception of it. To her it was
not running away, a setting of her husband at defiance; there was no
concealment of address, no melodramatic "I cannot come back to you."
Such methods, such pistol-holdings, would have seemed to her ridiculous.
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