As this date approached Ruth and Ethel began to think of a visit to London. They wanted new gowns and many other pretty things, and why not go to London for them? The journey was but a few hours, and two or three days' shopping in Regent Street and Piccadilly would be delightful. "We will make out a list of all we need this afternoon," said Ruth, "and we might as well go to-morrow morning as later," and at this moment a servant entered with the mail. Ethel lifted her letter with an exclamation. "It is from Dora," she said, and her voice had a tone of annoyance in it. "Dora is in London, at the Savoy. She wants to see me very much."
"I am so sorry. We have been so happy."
"I don't think she will interfere much, Ruth."
"My dears," said Judge Rawdon, "I have a letter from Fred Mostyn. He is coming home. He will be in London in a day or two."
"Why is he coming, father?"
"He says he has a proposal to make about the Manor. I wish he were not coming. No one wants his proposal." Then the breakfast-table, which had been so gay, became silent and depressed, and presently the Judge went away without exhibiting further interest in the London journey.
"I do wish Dora would let us alone," said Ruth. "She always brings disappointment or worry of some kind. And I wonder what is the meaning of this unexpected London visit. I thought she was in Holland."
"She said in her last letter that London would be impossible before August."
"Is it an appointment--or a coincidence?"
And Ethel, lifting her shoulders sarcastically, as if in hostile surrender to the inevitable, answered: "It is a fatality!"