"He didn't look like a bishop's son," said Johnny.
"How does a bishop's son look?" Lily asked.
"I suppose he ought to have some sort of clerical tinge about him; but this fellow had nothing of that kind."
"But then this fellow, as you call him," said Lily, "is only the son of an archdeacon."
"That accounts for it, I suppose," said Johnny.
But during all this time Grace did not say a word, and Lily perceived it. Then she bethought herself as to what she had better do. Grace, she knew, could not be comfortable where she was. Nor, indeed, was it probable that Grace would be very comfortable in returning home. There could not be much ease for Grace till the coming meeting between her and Major Grantly should be over. But it would be better that Grace should go back to Allington at once; and better also, perhaps, for Major Grantly that it should be so. "Lady Julia," she said, "I don't think we'll mind stopping for lunch to-day."
"Nonsense, my dear; you promised."
"I think we must break our promise; I do indeed. You mustn't be angry with us." And Lily looked at Lady Julia, as though there were something which Lady Julia ought to understand, which she, Lily, could not quite explain. I fear that Lily was false, and intended her old friend to believe that she was running away because John Eames had come there.
"But you will be famished," said Lady Julia.
"We shall live through it," said Lily.
"It is out of the question that I should let you walk all the way here from Allington and all the way back without taking something."
"We shall just be home in time for lunch if we go now," said Lily. "Will not that be best, Grace?"
Grace hardly knew what would be best. She only knew that Major Grantly was at Allington, and that he had come thither to see her. The idea of hurrying back after him was unpleasant to her, and yet she was so flurried that she felt thankful to Lily for taking her away from the cottage. The matter was compromised at last. They remained for half an hour, and ate some biscuits and pretended to drink a glass of wine, and then they started. John Eames, who in truth believed that Lily Dale was running away from him, was by no means well pleased, and when the girls were gone, did not make himself so agreeable to his old friend as he should have done. "What a fool I am to come here at all," he said, throwing himself into an arm-chair as soon as the front door was closed.
"That's very civil to me, John!"
