“Miss Thorold!” he said. “What are they all thinking of? How did you come here?”
She tried to smile in answer, but her lips felt very cold and numb. “Oh, I just—walked,” she said.
“You—walked!” Amazement and displeasure sounded in his voice. “Where is everyone?” he said. “Where is Maggie?”
He swung on his heel as if he would go in search of her, but Frances put forth an urgent hand to detain him.
“Don’t go! It—really doesn’t matter. Maggie is busy—getting the tea. I—I didn’t like to interrupt her. I give too much trouble as it is.”
Arthur growled something very deeply into his chest, but he checked his first impulse at her behest.
“Well, but what are you doing here? Why did you come out?” he asked, after a moment.
She hesitated to answer him. Then: “I dropped a letter,” she said. “It is under the cedar-tree. I just thought I would fetch it.”
“You must be mad,” he said. “Stay here while I fetch it!”
He strode away, and she sat and waited for his return, shivering against the wall, wondering if Maggie and Oliver had separated, wishing with all her heart that she had not overheard their talk.