ger or Mr. Etchingham Granger or even Mr. Gurnard may have made."
I wondered vaguely what the devil Mr. Gurnard could have to say in the matter, and then Miss Granger herself came into the room.
"They want me," my aunt said in a low voice, "they have been persuading me . . . to go back . . . to Etchingham, I think you said, Meredith."
I became conscious that I wanted to return to England, wanted it very much, wanted to be out of this; to get somewhere where there was stability and things that one could understand. Everything here seemed to be in a mist, with the ground trembling underfoot.
"Why . . ." Miss Granger's verdict came, "we can go when you like. To-morrow."
Things immediately began to shape themselves on these unexpected lines, a sort of bustle of departure to be in the air. I was employed to conduct the lawyer as far as the porter's lodge, a longish traverse. He beguiled the way by excusing himself for hurrying back to London.
"I might have been of use; in these hurried departures there are generally things. But, you
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