“I do not know that there is any cause to be sorry; we were going anyhow in a few days. And in London my son will find many friends.” “I mean,” said Constance, drawing a long breath, beginning to recover a little courage, feeling, even in her discomfiture, a faint amusement still--“I mean, for his friends here, who will miss him so much.” Mrs Gaunt darted a glance at her, half wrathful, half wavering; it had seemed so unnatural to her that any girl could play with or resist her son. Perhaps, after all, he had misunderstood Constance. She said, proudly, “His friends always miss George; he is so friendly. Nobody ever asks anything from him, to take any trouble or make any sacrifice, in vain.” “I am sure he is very good,” said Constance, tremulous, yet waking to the sense of humour underneath. “That is why I am here to-day,” said Mrs Gaunt. “My son--remembers--though perhaps you will allow he has not much call to do so, Miss Waring--that you said something about a parcel for Frances. Dear Frances; he will see her--that will always be something.” “Then he is not coming to say good-bye?” she said, opening her eyes with a semblance of innocent and regretful surprise. “Oh, Miss Waring! oh, Constance!” cried the poor mother. “But perhaps my boy has made a mistake. He is very wretched. I am sure he never closed his eyes all last night. If you saw him this morning, it would go to your heart. Ah, my dear, he thinks you will have nothing to say to him, and his heart is broken. If you will only let me tell him that he has made a mistake!” “Is it about me, Mrs Gaunt?” “Oh, Constance! who should it be about but you? He has never looked at any one else since he saw you first. All that has been in his mind has been how to see you, how to talk to you, to make himself agreeable if he could--to try and get your favour. I will not conceal anything from you. I never was satisfied from the first. I thought you were too grand, too much used to fine people and their ways, ever to look at one of us. But then, when I saw my George, the flower of my flock, with nothing in his mind but how to please you, his eyes following you wherever you went, as if there was not another in the world----” “There was not another in Bordighera, at least,” said Constance, under her breath.