"The girl," he said with a laugh. "Ah, well, I suppose most girls have got somebody who'd consider they were 'the' girl."
"Yes, yes; but I mean is she the girl you've been talking to me about all this time?"
Again he only laughed, and said something chaffing about "curiosity."
Curiosity indeed! From him! Pretty good, wasn't it? And not another sensible word could I get out of Captain Holiday for the rest of the walk.
When we did finally reach the field, however, from which we could see the corrugated iron roof of our hut set in the trees, he did vouchsafe to me one more remark about the girl who was shortly coming down from London. Just after his salute and "good evening," he turned back to me to say:
"I'll tell you this much: she happens to be my own first cousin."
However, he'd said enough—or left enough unsaid. I knew well enough that, cousin or no cousin, she was the girl about whom there'd been all that discussion.
CHAPTER XVI
CURIOUS CONDUCT OF THE MAN-HATER
"To maidens' vows and swearing
Henceforth no credit give."
—GEORGE WITHER.