'It's Rob Angus come home in a lum hat, and that's one o' the leddies frae the Lodge. I maun awa to Thrums wi' this. Rob Angus, Robbie Angus, michty, what a toon there'll be aboot this!'
Rob walked up to Mary Abinger, feeling that to bid her good afternoon was like saying 'Thank you' in a church when the organ stops. He felt himself a saw-miller again.
The finest thing in the world is that a woman can pass through anything, and remain pure. Mary had never been put to the test, but she could have stood it. Her soul spoke in her face, and as Rob looked at her the sound of his own voice seemed a profanation. Yet Mary was not all soul. She understood, for instance, why Rob stammered so much as he took her hand, and she was glad that she had on her green habit instead of the black one.
Sir Clement Dowton rode forward smartly to make up on Miss Abinger, and saw her a hundred yards before him from the top of a bump which the road climbs. She was leaning forward in her saddle talking to a man whom he recognised at once. The baronet's first thought was to ride on, but he drew rein.
'I have had my chance and failed,' he said to himself grimly. 'Why should not he have his?'
With a last look at the woman he loved, Sir Clement turned his horse, and so rode out of Mary Abinger's life. She had not even seen him.
'Papa has been out shooting,' she said to Rob, who was trying to begin, 'and I am on my way to meet him. Sir Clement Dowton is with me.'
She turned her head to look for the baronet, and Rob, who had been aimlessly putting his fingers through her horse's mane, started at the mention of Sir Clement's name.
'Miss Abinger,' he said, 'I have come here to ask you one question. I have no right to put it, but Sir Clement, he——'
'If you want to see him,' said Mary, 'you have just come in time. I believe he is starting for a tour of the world in a week or so.'