“No?” said Witham.
The girl looked at him curiously, and shook her head. “No,” she said. “I heard my uncle’s explanation, but it was not convincing. I saw the man’s face.”
It was several seconds before Witham answered, and then he took the bold course.
“Well?” he said.
Maud Barrington made a curious little gesture. “I knew I had seen it before at the bridge, but that was not all. It was vaguely familiar, and I felt I ought to know it. It reminded me of somebody.”
“Of me?” and Witham laughed.
“No. There was a resemblance, but it was very superficial. That man’s face had little in common with yours.”
“These faint likenesses are not unusual,” said Witham, and once more Maud Barrington looked at him steadily.
“No,” she said. “Of course not. Well, we will conclude that my fancies ran away with me, and be practical. What is wheat doing just now?”
“Rising still,” said Witham, and regretted the alacrity with which he had seized the opportunity of changing the topic when he saw that it had not escaped the notice of his companion. “You and I and a few others will be rich this year.”