She is as
proud as Lucifer--she likes being treated like a lady--and she pesters
me every autumn to go to St. Crux. What's the matter? What are you
taking out your pocketbook for?"
"I want the admiral's address, Mr. Vanstone, for a purpose which I will
explain immediately."
With those words, Captain Wragge opened his pocketbook and wrote
down the address from Noel Vanstone's dictation, as follows: "Admiral
Bartram, St. Crux-in-the-Marsh, near Ossory, Essex."
"Good!" cried the captain, closing his pocketbook again. "The only
difficulty that stood in our way is now cleared out of it. Patience, Mr.
Vanstone--patience! Let us take up my instructions again at the point
where we dropped them. Give me five minutes' more attention, and you
will see your way to your marriage as plainly as I see it. On the
day after to-morrow you declare you are tired of Aldborough, and Mrs.
Lecount suggests St. Crux. You don't say yes or no on the spot; you take
the next day to consider it, and you make up your mind the last thing at
night to go to St. Crux the first thing in the morning. Are you in the
habit of superintending your own packing up, or do you usually shift all
the trouble of it on Mrs.
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