Arthur Lenox made at once a responsive movement, not sorry, I thought, to escape from Miss Millington, though his eyes went again towards Maggie with evident interest. I gave him my hand as we said good-bye, distantly enough: and Maggie, with a cordial air, followed suit, actually inviting him to "afternoon tea at Beckdale House any day while he was at the farm." He thanked her, half excused himself, and went off at a rapid pace in the opposite direction to ourselves.
"That was hardly needful, Maggie," I said.
"Why? The Denhams know him. And he is your friend," said Maggie.
"The question for you is what your mother would wish," I said coldly. "My acquaintances are not necessarily always yours. If Mr. Romilly were here it would, of course, be different."
"Well,—I only know he is the handsomest man I ever saw in my life," declared Maggie.
I thought it best to let the matter drop. We went on pretty steadily until heavy rain turned us back, enforcing postponement of the Gurglepool excursion.
To-night, I am terribly weary and overstrained with to-day's encounter: and so hopeless. For this has indeed been destroying the bridge behind me.
[CHAPTER XXV.]
ALONE IN GURGLEPOOL.
CONSTANCE CONWAY'S JOURNAL.