Aunt Sophia gazed at him thoughtfully for a few moments, and then placed her hand in his. “Let it go,” she said softly. “I shall never think of it again.”
Jack Scales raised the hand to his lips, and had just let it fail, when he became aware of the fact that Arthur Prayle was walking along one of the neighbouring paths, apparently deep in the study of some book. “Confound him! he’ll misinterpret that,” said the doctor to himself; and then he saw that his companion’s eyes were fixed upon him inquiringly.
“You were thinking that Mr Prayle will make remarks,” she said softly.
“Let him. What is it to me what he thinks?”
“No; it does not matter,” said Aunt Sophia. “Let us go down here.” She led the way along the walk to where the iron gate opened upon the meadows, across which lay the lane leading to the little ivy-grown church; and, wondering at her action, Jack Scales walked by her side.
“Surely,” he thought, “she does not imagine that—Oh, absurd!” He glanced sidewise, and then, man of the world as he was, he could not help a slight sensation of uneasy confusion coming over him as he noticed that Aunt Sophia seemed to have divined his thoughts, and to be reading him through and through.
“This is a pretty place,” she said, breaking a rather awkward silence.
“As pretty a place as I ever saw,” replied the doctor, jumping at the opportunity of speaking on a fresh subject.
“It is much altered since I knew it as a child. James has done so much to improve it since he has been master.”
“You knew it well, when you were young, then?”