"Going?" gasped Anthony. "Where to?"

"To London first, then to Paris, then to Italy to winter at Rome, and
then goodness knows where. You see, my Aunt Maria has wanted to travel
all her life, but Uncle Samuel, who was born in Putney, feared the sea
and lived and died in Putney in the very house in which he was born. Now
Aunt Maria wants a change and means to have it."

Then Anthony broke out.

"Damn the old woman! Why can't she take her change in Italy or wherever
she wishes, and leave you alone?"

"Anthony!" said Barbara in a scandalised voice. "What do you mean,
Anthony, by using such dreadful language about my aunt?"

"What do I mean? Well" (this with the recklessness of despair), "if you
want to know, I mean that I can't bear your going away."

"If my parents," began Barbara steadily----

"What have your parents to do with it? I'm not your parents, I'm
your----"

Barbara looked at him in remonstrance.

"--old friend, played together in childhood, you know the kind of thing.
In short, I don't want you to go to Italy with Lady Thompson. I want you
to stop here."