“And about what, pray?”
“Absurd nonsense, of course; but the old man who drove the coach talked the most idiotic stuff when I asked him about your people. Indeed, from his manner, I believe he was afraid of you.”
Miss Guir did not laugh, nor seem in the least surprised. She only drew a long breath and said:
“Very likely!”
“But why should he be?” persisted Henley.
“It does seem strange,” said the girl, pathetically, “but many people are.”
“I am sure I should never be afraid of you,” added Paul, confidentially.
“I hope not; and am I anything like what you expected?” she asked with languid interest.
“Well, hardly—at least, you are better than I expected—I mean that you are better—looking, you know.”
He laughed, but the girl was silent. There was nothing trivial in her manner, and she drove on for some minutes, devoting herself to the horse and a careful scrutiny of the road, whose shadows, ruts, and stones required constant attention. Presently, in an open space, bathed in a flood of moonlight, she turned toward him and said: