“As he doubtless would have done any passer-by on such a night,” she remarked. “By the bye, what has become of that young man?”
“He has left the neighbourhood,” Hurd answered shortly.
“Left altogether?” she inquired.
“I imagine so,” Hurd answered. “I had the shelter destroyed, and I gave him to understand pretty clearly what your wishes were. There really wasn’t much else for him to do.”
Her eyelids drooped over her half closed eyes. For a moment she was silent.
“If you hear of him again,” she said quietly, “be so good as to let me know.”
Her indifference seemed too complete to be assumed. Yet somehow or other Hurd felt that she was displeased with him.
“I will do so,” he said, “if I hear anything about him. It scarcely seems likely.”
Wilhelmina sat quite still. Her head, resting slightly upon the long delicate fingers of her right hand, was turned away from the young man who was daring to watch her. She was apparently gazing across the park, down the magnificent avenue of elms which led to the village. So he was gone—without a word! How else? On the whole she could not but approve! And yet!—and yet!
She turned once more to Hurd.