‘Nor I, Brion,’ she said low.
Here was revelation. The heiress, presumably spoilt, of all that wealth, and unhappy!
‘Why——’ he began; but she turned suddenly and put a finger on his lips.
‘If we are to be friends, do not ask me. Let this be something apart from the rest—our own, with none other to share in and mar it. Will you?’
‘Will I?’ His tone was assurance enough.
She gave a little sigh; and looked whimsically and tenderly at him. He dared to steal her hand to his; and so they sat.
‘We ought not, mayhap,’ said she: ‘but indeed I ache for a friend; and your gentle looks assure me, though your actions may sometimes belie them.’
‘You mean that day? What brought you to the haunted copse, Joan?’
‘Is it really haunted, then? I wanted to see the well.’
‘You were on the wrong side of the wall for that.’