It was like the shrinking of a child that has been
tortured, from its tormentor.
"You are going to London?"
"Yes. You remember those Devonshire people I went to stay with? One of
the girls is up in London with her aunt. I'm going to board with them
a bit."
"My lawyers will send the thousand pounds to Aunt Merton when they have
arranged for it," said Diana, quietly. "Is that what you wish?"
A look of relief she could not conceal slipped into Fanny's countenance.
"You're going to give it us--after all?" she said, stumbling over the
words.
"I promised to give it you."
Fanny fidgeted, but even her perceptions told her that further thanks
would be out of place.
"Mother'll write to you, of course. And you'd better send fifty pounds
of it to me. I can't go home under three months, and I shall run short."
"Very well," said Diana.
"Good-bye," said Fanny, coming a little nearer. Then she looked round
her, with a first genuine impulse of something like remorse--if the word
is not too strong. It was rather, perhaps, a consciousness of having
managed her opportunities extremely badly. "I'm sorry you didn't like
me." she said, abruptly, "and I didn't mean to be nasty.
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