More certain than ever that she was tired, he offered her his chair.

“No, please sit still. I think I will sit in the carriage.”

“Miss Honeychurch, you do sound tired.”

“Not a bit,” said Lucy, with trembling lips.

“But you are, and there's a look of George about you. And what were you saying about going abroad?”

She was silent.

“Greece” — and she saw that he was thinking the word over — “Greece; but you were to be married this year, I thought.”

“Not till January, it wasn't,” said Lucy, clasping her hands. Would she tell an actual lie when it came to the point?