Tears stood in her eyes as she crossed the threshold of her own house.
"It's a tremendous wrench!" she fluttered.
"Never mind, Mums!" consoled Irene, linking her arm in her mother's.
"It's an adventure, and we all want to go.

You'll love it when we're once off.

No, don't look back: it's unlucky! Your bag's in the cab; I saw Jessie put it in.

Hooray for Italy, say I, and a good riddance to smoky old London! In another couple of days we shall be down south and turning into Romeos and Juliets as fast as we can.

You'll see Dad learning a guitar and strumming it under your balcony, and serenading you no end." "Hardly at his time of life!" said Mrs.Beverley; but the joke amused her, she wiped her eyes, and, as Irene had hoped and intended, stepped smiling into the waiting taxi, and left her old home with laughter instead of with tears.
In her fourteen years of experience Irene had traveled very little, so the migration to Italy was a fairy journey so far as she was concerned.
To catch the boat express they had made an early start, and they breakfasted in the train between London and Dover.