'Does he expect me
to find anybody here that I could take? Poor George Whitstable is not
much; but there is nobody else at all.'

'You may have him if you like,' said Sophia, with a chuck of her head.

'Thank you, my dear, but I shouldn't like it at all. I haven't come to
that quite yet.'

'You were talking of running away with somebody.'

'I shan't run away with George Whitstable; you may be sure of that.
I'll tell you what I shall do,--I will write papa a letter. I suppose
he'll condescend to read it. If he won't take me up to town himself,
he must send me up to the Primeros. What makes me most angry in the
whole thing is that we should have condescended to be civil to the
Melmottes down in the country. In London one does those things, but to
have them here was terrible!'

During that entire afternoon nothing more was said. Not a word passed
between them on any subject beyond those required by the necessities
of life. Georgiana had been as hard to her sister as to her father,
and Sophia in her quiet way resented the affront. She was now almost
reconciled to the sojourn in the country, because it inflicted a
fitting punishment on Georgiana, and the presence of Mr Whitstable at
a distance of not more than ten miles did of course make a difference
to herself. Lady Pomona complained of a headache, which was always an
excuse with her for not speaking;--and Mr Longestaffe went to sleep.
Georgiana during the whole afternoon remained apart, and on the next
morning the head of the family found the following letter on his
dressing-table:--

My DEAR PAPA

I don't think you ought to be surprised because we feel that our
going up to town is so very important to us. If we are not to be
in London at this time of the year we can never see anybody, and
of course you know what that must mean for me. If this goes on
about Sophia, it does not signify for her, and, though mamma likes
London, it is not of real importance. But it is very, very hard
upon me. It isn't for pleasure that I want to go up. There isn't
so very much pleasure in it. But if I'm to be buried down here at
Caversham, I might just as well be dead at once. If you choose to
give up both houses for a year, or for two years, and take us all
abroad, I should not grumble in the least. There are very nice
people to be met abroad, and perhaps things go easier that way
than in town. And there would be nothing for horses, and w