“Shall we sit here?” she suggested. “We can keep the door open and watch the storm. Or perhaps you would rather see as little of it as possible?”
I took the easy chair opposite to her.
“I don’t mind watching it from inside,” I answered. “I am not really nervous, but those trees look horribly unsafe. One wants to be on the moor to enjoy a thunderstorm.”
She looked at me with a faint smile, kindly but critically.
“No, you don’t look particularly nervous,” she said. “I wonder——”
A crash of thunder drowned the rest of her sentence.
In the silence which followed I found her studying my features intently. For some reason or other she seemed suddenly to have developed a new and strong interest in me. Her eyes were fastened upon my face. I began to feel almost uncomfortable.
She suddenly realized it, and broke into a little laugh.
“Forgive my staring at you so outrageously,” she exclaimed. “You must think me a very rude person. It is odd to meet any one in the woods about here, you know; and I don’t think that I have ever seen you before, have I?”