She could easily discern the short, stout figure of the young man who had admitted to Polly that he was an impostor. He was walking between Mr. Davidson and one of the men servants, his head bent, his attitude that of complete dejection.
The boatman inspected the group with interest, particularly the stout young man.
"Run!" exclaimed Rosalind, turning swiftly upon him.
"And what are you going to do?"
"I'm all right; I can stay. I'll explain—somehow. But you must go. Take the back door, quick!"
"But why should I go?"
"A thousand reasons!"
"So as not to embarrass you," he suggested, watching the oncoming procession.
"I—I didn't mean that. Go, while there's a chance."
"So you don't want me caught?"