GREY TOR INN
_Thursday morning_
Ended the Dartmoor drama! Gone Sir Archibald! Vanished the motor! Gone
too, dear Virginia and Mrs. Pomeroy! only Mrs. MacGill and I are left!
He went on Wednesday, the Pomeroys on Thursday, and I now await
events. Virginia tells me she has taken her mother to Torquay, but
that is a wide word!
_Saturday_
I thought it would be so: a week without her was enough. Yesterday Sir
Archibald, or what used to be Sir Archibald, appeared at the inn
again.
But what a change was here! Shall I put down our conversation without
comment?
_Cecilia._ So you have come back, Sir Archibald?
_Sir A._ Yes.
_Cecilia._ I hope you had a pleasant run to town, or wherever you
went.
_Sir A._ Beastly.
_Cecilia._ What? Did the motor break down, or the weather?
_Sir A._ Neither.
_Cecilia._ What was wrong, then?
_Sir A._ Everything. (Then suddenly) Where have the Pomeroys gone to,
Miss Evesham?
_Cecilia._ To Torquay, I understand.
_Sir A._ Do you know their address?
_Cecilia._ I do not. I suppose they will be at one of the hotels.
_Sir A._ You are making fun of me. Tell me where they are. I am in
earnest.
_Cecilia._ So am I. I do not know their address.
He started up, wrung my hand without a word, and hurried out of the
room. I looked after him in the hall, but he was so intent on the
Torquay Guide that he never noticed me.
He steamed off Torquay-wards half an hour later.
I have had a pleasant chat with Mr. Willoughby, who appeared this
afternoon. He looks at life and all things much as I do. He is a
distinct relief from Mrs. MacGill, a distinct relief; and though he
has made no special reputation as yet, he is bound to succeed, for he
has decided talent.