Finetta stood with clenched hands, her teeth gnawing at her under lip; then she sprang to Leslie's side and took her hand.
"Miss Lisle——."
Leslie shook her hand off with a little cry, a shudder.
"Don't—don't touch me, please."
Finetta froze instantly.
"I—I beg your pardon," panted Leslie. "But I cannot bear any more. If you would go now. That road leads to Portmaris."
She sank on the stone, and sat with her head erect and face set hard as the stone itself.
Finetta drew her jacket round her and fumbled with her gloves.
"I understand," she said in a low voice. "You've done the right thing, and you won't be sorry for it."
"It is nearly two miles to Portmaris," said Leslie in a dry, expressionless voice. "There is an evening train; you can catch it if you walk quickly."