“Won’t you just walk down the path with me?”
She rose without answering. He took a shawl and put it round her carefully. She merely allowed him. They walked in silence down the garden.
“You—are you—are you angry with me?” he faltered.
Tears suddenly came to her eyes.
“What did you come back for?” she said, averting her face from him. He looked at her.
“I knew you were angry—and——,” he hesitated.
“Why didn’t you go away?” she said impulsively. He hung his head and was silent.
“I don’t see why—why it should make trouble between us, Lettie,” he faltered. She made a swift gesture of repulsion, whereupon, catching sight of her hand, she hid it swiftly against her skirt again.
“You make my hands—my very hands disclaim me,” she struggled to say.
He looked at her clenched fist pressed against the folds of her dress.