“That is terrible!” he said vigorously. “Why, it might have hit you!”
“Of course it might have hit me,” she said indignantly. “That’s the whole point of my story, so far as you are concerned—I mean, so far as I am concerned,” she added hastily.
“So fax as I am concerned too,” said Timothy quietly. “I just hate the idea of anything even frightening you.”
She rose hurriedly.
“I am going to shop now,” she said.
“What’s the hurry?” grumbled Timothy.
“Mr. Anderson,” she said, ignoring his question, “I don’t want you to think that uncle is feeling badly about you because of what has happened in the house. He spoke to me of you last night, and he spoke very nicely. I am worried to death about Sir John. He has made enemies in his life, and I am sure that this shooting affair is the sequel to some old feud.”
Timothy nodded.
“I should say that is so,” he said.
He looked down at the grass very thoughtfully and then: