The clock struck nine. Elizabeth-Jane turned to her companion. "The
evening is drawing on, mother," she said. "What do you propose to do?"
She was surprised to find how irresolute her mother had become. "We must
get a place to lie down in," she murmured. "I have seen--Mr. Henchard;
and that's all I wanted to do."
"That's enough for to-night, at any rate," Elizabeth-Jane replied
soothingly. "We can think to-morrow what is best to do about him. The
question now is--is it not?--how shall we find a lodging?"
As her mother did not reply Elizabeth-Jane's mind reverted to the words
of the waiter, that the Three Mariners was an inn of moderate charges. A
recommendation good for one person was probably good for another. "Let's
go where the young man has gone to," she said. "He is respectable. What
do you say?"
Her mother assented, and down the street they went.
In the meantime the Mayor's thoughtfulness, engendered by the note as
stated, continued to hold him in abstraction; till, whispering to his
neighbour to take his place, he found opportunity to leave the chair.
This was just after the departure of his wife and Elizabeth.
Outside the door of the assembly-room he saw the waiter, and beckoning
to him asked who had brought the note which had been handed in a quarter
of an hour before.
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