"I guess that's kind of him," said Pratt, gnawing his lip. "I suppose," he was addressing Raston, "that you send copies of these to your friends?"
"Indeed I do not," replied the curate, cheerily, "I take only a few copies and place them in an album. Certainly I have given a few to Miss Bathurst."
"Natural, very natural," said Pratt, gravely; "you must give me one of the group you took just now." And without waiting for an answer he turned away. Somehow he seemed relieved to hear that the photographs were not likely to be sent round the country. And all the time Mrs Gabriel, who had listened to this conversation, heard it with a cold smile. She seemed rather pleased that Pratt should be upset, and upset he was, a remarkable thing in so calm a man.
After a time Leo and Sybil slipped away, and were some distance across the moor before their absence was noticed. There was no chance of following them save in the most pointed manner, so Sir Frank, with a scowl, devoted himself to his sister. She was seated on the heather, staring after Leo with a despairing look. Frank patted her hand kindly. "He will come back, Edith," he whispered.
"No," she replied, quietly, "he will never come back. Sybil has taken him away for ever. Don't worry about me, Frank."
"Oh! as to that," retorted Frank, savagely, "I approve of that no more than you do. If you want to marry Leo, I wish to make Sybil my wife."
"I am afraid neither of us will get our wishes," said Edith, with a sigh.
"We'll see about that," muttered Frank; "at all costs I'll stop that marriage. Sybil must become my wife."
Mrs Gabriel overheard him. "Make your mind easy, Frank," she said, "I can put an end to this." She cast a look at Pratt. "I could have done so long ago but for—" She stopped.
"But for what, Mrs Gabriel?"