Rupert did his best to dismiss Ruby from his thoughts. If his father discovered that he was engaged to be married there would be further complications, and the barrier which had so suddenly risen between them would grow.
And there were other reasons why he did not want to think of her; reasons he would not admit to himself, and yet which continually intruded themselves in his brain.
Absurd fears; doubts; unwarrantable suspicions.
"To look at you, my dear fellow, one would think you were being hauled off to Princetown to do seven years penal servitude. For heaven's sake buck up and say something."
Despard spoke; they were swinging along the moorland road at a good pace, just dropping down the hill to the valley through which the little Cherry Brook rushes to join the Dart.
Marjorie laughed. She was accompanying them as far as the prison, and while they went over it she was going on into the town to do some marketing. She was wearing a short, workman-like little skirt and high lace boots. She carried her hat in her hand and the wind blew through her hair; the sunshine made it gleam like dull gold.
"I believe Rupert's bored," she said, "and he's already longing for the excitement and gaiety of London. You must find it awfully dull here, Mr. Despard. You don't look a bit like the type of man who would enjoy roughing it—for that's what I suppose you call living in a farmhouse on Dartmoor."
"I'm having the time of my life," Despard replied cheerfully. "I was wondering last night whether I could persuade you to take me as a permanent paying guest."
"Like the people who stay at the post office and the inn during the summer months? Do you know," she said, looking at him out of her beautiful grey eyes, "I always feel so sorry for those people; they look unhappy and never seem to have anything to do but to drive about in brakes or motor-cars, or, if the day's wet, wander about holding up an umbrella. If I had to choose between the two, I'd rather be a convict in the prisons than a paying guest."
Despard shrugged his shoulders. "Well, one never knows one's luck. What do you say, Rupert?"