Her heart was saying in the midst of some painful throbbing, "With his hand upon me, I could be anything he liked to make me."
And then her cheeks burnt at the thought, and she recommenced her painting with a fierce abruptness that showed itself in her face.
Dr. Fergusson noted that look, and he turned to Sunnie.
"Now," he said, "I am off. And you won't see me again for a whole week. I am going to Edinburgh on business."
"Ah," said Sunnie, taking hold of one of his hands and laying it against her cheek, "you'll have to see a lot of strange and funny things to tell me when you come back. I like to hear about big towns where the children see no fields and have houses and chimney-pots peeping in at every window. Miss Desmond will have to tell me stories till you come back, and we'll make up what you're doing while you're away, won't we?"
She looked round for Jean, but she was busy packing up her things and moving her canvas away. She was nowhere to be seen, when Dr. Fergusson was taking his departure.
[CHAPTER XI]
"WORTH SENDING FOR!"
"A friend ought to shun no pain,
to stand his friend in stead."—R. Edwards.
AS Leslie Fergusson drove home that night, his brows were furrowed with thought. In common with other lonely men, he had occasionally a habit of uttering his thoughts aloud. His good mare Bess was often the recipient of his confidences.