eternal brooding over Nevil was the cause of these mental vagaries.

Lord Romfrey was for postponing the appointed discussion in the morning
after breakfast. He pleaded business engagements.

'None so urgent as this of mine,' said Rosamund.

'But we have excellent news of Nevil: you have Gannet's word for it,' he
argued. 'There's really nothing to distress you.'

'My heart: I must be worthy of good news, to know happiness,' she
answered. 'I will say, let me go to Bevisham two, three, four days
hence, if you like, but there is peace for me, and nowhere else.'

'My precious Rosamund! have you set your two eyes on it? What you are
asking, is for permission to make an apology to Shrapnel!'

'That is the word.'

'That's Nevil's word.'

'It is a prescription to me.'

'An apology?'

The earl's gorge rose. Why, such an act was comparable to the circular
mission of the dog!

'If I do not make the apology, the mother of your child is a coward,'
said Rosamund.