'Petit chien!' exclaimed Mary, as the Huguenot pose was suddenly relinquished, and she snatched up her dog to kiss it; 'petit chien—dear wee doggie, don't be jealous of—oh, it's you, Hew—how tiresome!' she added under her breath, as that personage lounged upon the scene, and drily gave his cold, fishy hand to Falconer.
'Hew again!' thought Mary with a shiver of repugnance; and again, as in the instance of the grotto, she marvelled, with intense annoyance, how much he had overseen and overheard, and how long he had been en perdue!
Nearly ignoring the presence of Falconer, who assumed his hat and gloves, he bowed coldly and said curtly:
'I am about to have a canter down Granton way: will you join me, Mary?'
'I would rather be excused.'
'Why?'
'It is anything but a pretty road—all stone walls and no trees.'
Hew scowled. The answer showed plainly that his company would not compensate for the dulness of the road—'and before that fellow Falconer, too!'
'Annabelle will go, perhaps.'
'She is out with the old soldier, Mrs. Garth.'