His hand fell away from her. He turned to go. But swiftly she turned also and caught his arm "Nap, please—" she begged, "please—"
He stood still, and again his eyes scanned her. "Yes?"
The brief word sounded stern, but Dot was too anxious to take any note of that.
"Come a little farther," she urged. "It—it's lonely through the wood."
"What are you afraid of?" said Nap.
She could not tell him the truth, and she hesitated to lie. But his eyes read her through and through without effort. When he turned and walked beside her she was quite sure that he had fathomed the unspeakable dread which had been steadily growing within her since the moment of their meeting.
He did not say another word, merely paced along with his silent tread till they reached the small wood through which her path lay. Dot's anger had wholly left her, but her fear remained. A terrible sense of responsibility was upon her, and she was utterly at a loss as to how to cope with it. Her influence over this man she believed to be absolutely nil. She had not the faintest notion how to deal with him. Lady Carfax would have known, she reflected, and she wished with all her heart that Lady Carfax had been there.
He vaulted the stile into the wood, and held up his hand to her. As she placed hers within it she summoned her resolution and spoke.
"Nap, I'm sorry I said what I did just now."
He raised his brows for the fraction of a second. "I forget what you said."