At dusk, after staying in all day, I went out, partly because Penelope wished it, and partly for health's sake. I never lost a chance of getting strong now. My sister and I walked along silently, each thinking of her own affairs, when, at a turn in the road which led, not from the camp, but from the moorlands, she cried out, “I do believe there is Doctor Urquhart.”
If he had not heard his name, I think he would have passed us without knowing us. And the face that met mine, when he looked up—I never shall forget it to my dying day.
It made me shrink back for a minute, and then I said:—
“Oh! Max, have you been ill?”
“I do not know. Yes—possibly.”
“When did you come back?”
“I forget—oh! four days ago.”
“Were you coming to Rockmount?”
“Rockmount?—oh! no.” He shuddered, and dropped my hand.
“Doctor Urquhart seems in a very uncertain frame of mind,” said Penelope, severely, from the other side the road. “We had better leave him. Come, Dora.”