Only a few minutes’ conversation, and he was gone.
A fortnight later he was there again, and the stay was a little longer; but there was always the same shrinking show of respect for her, and even Mary could say nothing.
And so time wore on, till the coming of the yacht and a stay for at least a few days was no uncommon thing.
“No, I wouldn’t say a word,” said Gellow, in conference with his man. “Keep quiet, dear boy, till she gets back, even if it’s months yet, and then strike home.”
“But I’m getting sick of it.”
“Never mind, dear boy. It’s a very big stake, and I can’t understand, seeing what a darling she is, how you shy at her so. No other reason, have you?”
“No, no,” said Glyddyr hurriedly.
“But it looks as if you had, even when you say no. But there, it’s all right. Give her plenty of time. You have hooked her. If you are hasty now, she’ll break away, and never take the fly again. Wait till she goes back into her own quiet little groove. Then be quite ready; job the landing-net under her with a sure and steady hand, and though she’ll kick and struggle a bit, and try to leap back into deep water, the pretty little goldfish will be yours. And well earned, too.”
So Glyddyr waited his time, knew exactly when Claude would return home, and was ready to incite the fishermen and the workers at the quarry to get up a reception in her honour.
This was done, and as Chris Lisle stayed at home, gnawing his lips with agony, he knew that flags and banners were being strung across from house to house, that yachts’ guns were to be fired, and that the band from Toxeter was to be there.