“Oh, no! The man is trying to ruin me, but that kind of meanness isn’t in his line. Perhaps I’d better say that I never had clothes like those and that I sold no land of Cyril’s.”
“Mr. Prescott,” Muriel murmured shyly, “it isn’t necessary to tell me this; I never doubted it.”
“Thank you,” he answered shortly, but there was trouble in his voice and the girl thought she knew what his reticence cost.
“Well,” she said, “you will tell other people this and go to see Corporal Curtis? You agreed that women have some power here, and, even if you’re not convinced, you will do what I ask because I wish it?”
“You have my promise.”
He walked toward the window and stood looking out for a moment or two before he turned to her again.
“Don’t you think you had better start for home? The moon looks hazy. May I drive out with you?”
Muriel had shrunk from the long journey in the dark, and she readily agreed.
“I’ll tell them to bring your team round,” he said, moving toward the door. “Get off as soon as you’re ready, and I’ll come along when I’ve collected a few things I bought.”
The girl let him go, appreciating his consideration, for she guessed his thoughts. He was under suspicion and would give the tatlers in the town nothing on which to base conjectures. It hurt her pride, however, to admit that such precautions had better be taken.