“What young lady? Is——”
Then Valentine stopped, and his heart beat very quickly.
He guessed at once who it was that had come even before Mrs. Blaine could speak the name.
“Such a dear, nice young lady, with the sweetest eyes, sir, but a very fragile look, like. She wants care, sir, as Miss Grace wrote, and I’m afeared I’m not doing my duty letting her stay out all this blessed afternoon in this weather.”
“Is Miss Pennington out now?” Valentine queried, his voice catching a touch of anxiety. “But surely this is very late; it is just eight o’clock, and it’s quite a wild night.”
“Oh! she loves the rain and the wind, so she says, sir! But you’re right, it is very late. I must send my old man down to find her. She’ll be down on the beach, I expect.”
Valentine pulled on his mackintosh again.
“I’ll go,” he said, briefly. “I know Miss Pennington, and besides, I’m a bit stronger than Blaine, and if she should have fallen and hurt herself——”
“Oh! don’t say that!” Mrs. Blaine cried, and the tears started to her eyes. “Oh! sir, what will Miss Grace say if she’ve hurt herself——”
Valentine hastened to reassure her, and strode away in the growing darkness as he spoke.