"You needn't. We've time, but you'll have to hit up the pace. Come on quick—that's not just the place I'd select to leave a purse in."
He turned to go but I stood still. I hated going back there and it was lovely walking slowly along through the sharp chill air and the peaceful night.
"You go," I said, coaxing. "I'll saunter on and you can catch me up."
"Don't you mind being alone? Aren't you afraid?"
"Afraid?" I gave a laugh. "I'm much more afraid in that queer joint. Besides, I can't go as fast as you can and whatever happens we've got to catch that train."
"If you don't mind that's the best plan. I'll run both ways."
"Then hustle and I'll walk on slowly. But come whether you find the purse or not, for that's the last train to the Junction to-night, and we mustn't lose it."
"Right you are, and we won't lose anything, the train or the purse. I'll make it a rush order. Go slow till I come."
He turned and went off at a run and I walked on. At first I could hear the thud of his feet quite plainly and then the sound was suddenly deadened and I knew he was on the moist turf by the roadside. The silence closed down around me like a black curtain that seemed to be shutting me off from the rest of the world. I walked on slowly, gathering my skirts up from the wet and the twigs, as noiseless as a shadow in the dark of the trees.
I don't know how much further I went, but not very far because I could just make out the line of the Firehill Road curving down between the fields, when I heard behind me a fitful, stealthy rustling in the bushes.