“Well,” he added, “if you won’t have anything to say to me, so be it—these things are hard to bear.”
“Get along, man,” exclaimed the girl. “What on earth are you talking about? Are you daft? I’ll go my way and you go yours.”
“So be it, then, but you’ll bring me the picture to frame. I have another and a better one for you, remember that. Good evening—good-bye, Nell.”
“You’ve got my name pat enough. Good night.”
She held out her hand, Peace grasped it with ardour, and again bade her good-bye.
She passed through the lane with rapid steps—he watched her as she proceeded along.
When she had gone a couple of hundred yards or so, he followed at a respectful distance.
“She’s a charming creature, so impulsive—so ingenuous, but I wont bother her any more just now. She’s a little nettled, but she’ll come to, I don’t doubt that. She’s not one to bear malice, or to sulk either, if I read her character rightly.”
He let her go her way, and turned out of the lane into a bridle road which ran at right angles with it.
At this time he had not the remotest idea as to who and what she was, but he knew there would not be much difficulty in ascertaining all about her, either from Bricket himself, or one of the frequenters of his house.