"You know I have never received a letter from you." "I write the most delightful ones!" Angela exclaimed; and she succeeded in making him promise to start that night for London.
She had just done so when Mrs.Vivian presented herself, and the good lady was not a little astonished at being informed of his intention.
"You surely are not going to give up my daughter to oblige Mr.Wright ?" she observed.
"Upon my word, I feel as if I were!" said Bernard.
"I will explain it, dear mamma," said Angela.

"It is very interesting.
Mr.Wright has made a most fearful scene; the state of things between him and Blanche is dreadful." Mrs.Vivian opened her clear eyes.
"You really speak as if you liked it!" "She does like it--she told Gordon so," said Bernard.

"I don't know what she is up to! Gordon has taken leave of his wits; he wishes to put away his wife." "To put her away ?" "To repudiate her, as the historians say!" "To repudiate little Blanche!" murmured Mrs.Vivian, as if she were struck with the incongruity of the operation.
"I mean to keep them together," said Angela, with a firm decision.
Her mother looked at her with admiration.
"My dear daughter, I will assist you." The two ladies had such an air of mysterious competence to the task they had undertaken that it seemed to Bernard that nothing was left to him but to retire into temporary exile.

He accordingly betook himself to London, where he had social resources which would, perhaps, make exile endurable.

He found himself, however, little disposed to avail himself of these resources, and he treated himself to no pleasures but those of memory and expectation.