“With your mistress?”
“No, Miss Mary. She is in the garden.”
Mary shuddered as she thought of the future, and of Glyddyr’s recovery of his health.
“Are you cold, Miss Mary?” said Woodham earnestly.
“Yes—I mean no. That is—nothing. If Miss Claude—”
She stopped short.
“I mean, if your mistress calls for me, say I have gone for a walk. No, no, no,” she cried passionately. “I must not go. If he knew that I had been out, it would cause trouble.”
Sarah Woodham sighed. The words were incontrovertible.
Mary began to take off her things, but changed her mind and put them on again.
“I will go. I must see him,” she said. “You shall go with me, Sarah. It would not look so then—would it?”