Miles made no immediate remark. Bitter disappointment and hungry yearning were for the moment written clearly on his handsome, reckless face. At last he said:
"You may not believe me, but when you came to me—down there on the lawn—that's what I was swearing to myself; to begin afresh. And see what has come to me since then!" he added, with a harsh laugh.
"Just then," returned Dick, frankly, "I should have liked nothing better than to have seen you run in. I followed you out with as good a hate as one man can feel towards another. You never thought of my following you out here? Nor did I think of coming so far; by the bye, the—your wife made it difficult for me; she was following too. Yes, I hated you sufficiently; and I had suspected you from the first—but not for what you are; when I heard Jem Pound say your name I was staggered, my brain went reeling, I could scarcely keep from crying out."
"Did you recognise him?"
"Pound? No: I thought him a detective. He is a clever fellow."
"He is the devil incarnate!"
They had passed through the gates into the road.
"Here we separate," said Dick. "Go back to Graysbrooke the way you came, and pack your things. Is there any need to repeat—"
"None."
"You understand that if you break it, all's up with you?"