"Oh, I can't catch you if you won't stop!" she cried.
"My friend and secretary, Roger Wilbraham, tells me that I have no right to stop," Lynborough explained, looking round again, but not standing still. "I have only the right to pass and repass. I'm repassing now. He's a barrister, and he says that's the law. I daresay it is—but I regret that it prevents me from obliging you, Lady Norah."
"Well, I'm not going to make a fool of myself by running after you," said Norah crossly.
Lynborough walked slowly on; Norah followed; they reached the turn of the path towards the Grange hall door. They reached it—and passed it—both of them. Lynborough turned once more—with a surprised lift of his brows.
"At least I can see you safe off the premises!" laughed Norah, and with a quick dart forward she reduced the distance between them to half-a-yard. Lynborough seemed to have no objection; proximity made conversation easier; he moved slowly on.
Norah seemed defeated—but suddenly she saw her chance, and hailed it with a cry. The Marchesa's bailiff—John Goodenough—was approaching the path from the house situated at the southwest corner of the meadow. Her cry of his name caught his attention—as well as Lynborough's. The latter walked a little quicker. John Goodenough hurried up. Lynborough walked steadily on.
"Stop him, John!" cried Norah, her eyes sparkling with new excitement. "You know her Excellency's orders? This is Lord Lynborough!"
"His lordship! Aye, it is. I beg your pardon, my lord, but—I'm very sorry to interfere with your lordship, but——"
"You're in my way, Goodenough." For John had got across his path, and barred progress. "Of course I must stand still if you impede my steps, but I do it under protest. I only want to repass."
"You can't come this way, my lord. I'm sorry, but it's her Excellency's strict orders. You must go back, my lord."