Then turning away, as if his temper had got the better of him, he strode back through a clump of trees on the lawn, while I went up the steps again, and crossing the cold hall, entered the dismantled drawing-room, where a bright log fire was burning.
Sally was sitting on the hearth, half hidden by the high arms of the chair, and as I closed the door behind me, she rose and stood looking at me with an expression of surprise. So had Miss Mitty and Miss Matoaca looked in the firelight on that November afternoon when Sally and I had gone in together.
"Why, Ben!" she said quietly, "I thought you were in Washington!"
"I got home this morning and found your note. Sally, what is the trouble?"
"You came after me?"
"I came after you. The General went wild and imagined that there had been an accident, or George had run off with you."
"Then the General sent you?"
"Nobody sent me. I was leaving the house when he found me."
She had not moved toward me, and for some reason, I still stood where I had stopped short in the centre of the room, kept back by the reserve, the detachment in her expression.
"You came believing that George and I had gone off together?" she asked, and there was a faint hostility in her voice.