She wished even to avoid the necessity of telling him where she was going.

As she rose from luncheon Widdowson glanced at her.
'I've ordered the trap, Monica.

Will you come for a drive ?' 'I have promised to go into the town.

I'm very sorry.' 'It doesn't matter.' This was his latest mode of appealing to her--with an air of pained resignation.
'For a day or two I haven't felt at all well,' he continued gloomily.
'I thought a drive might do me good.' 'Certainly.

I hope it will.