As he had feared, Clare refused to be halted by Mary. Thrusting the Indian woman aside, she came on to Stonor.
“What’s the matter?” she cried stormily. “Why did you both leave me? Why does she try to stop me?—Why! you’re all wet! Where’s your tunic, your boots? You’re in pain!”
“Come to the house,” he said. “I’ll tell you.”
She would not be put off. “What has happened? I insist on knowing now! What is there down there I mustn’t see?”
“Be guided by me,” he pleaded. “Come away, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“I will see!” she cried. “Do you wish to put me out of my mind with suspense?”
He saw that it was perhaps kinder not to oppose her. “I have found a body in the river,” he said. “Do not look at it. Let me tell you.”
She broke away from him. “I must know the worst,” she muttered.
He let her go. She ran on down the beach, and he hobbled after. She stopped beside the body, and looked down with wide, wild eyes. One dreadful low cry escaped her.
“Ernest!”