“What do you want here? You’ve been listening! You’ve been spying on us! Get away, can’t you! Get back to your pretty young lady—her that’s going to marry John Goring for the sake of his money! Clear out of this, do you hear? Ninsy’s sick of you and your ways. Clear off! or I’ll make you—eavesdropper!”
By this time Ninsy had also risen, and stood facing the figure above them. Every vestige of colour had left her cheeks, and her hand was pressed against her side. Andersen made a curious incoherent sound and took a step towards them.
“Get away, can’t you!” reiterated the furious youth. “You’ve caused enough trouble here already. Look at her,—can’t you see how ill she is? Get back—damn you!—unless you want to kill her.”
Ninsy certainly looked as though in another moment she were going to fall. She made a piteous little gesture, as if to ward off from Andersen the boy’s savage words, but Philip caught her passionately round the waist.
“Get away!” he cried once more. “She belongs to me now. You might have had her, you coward—you turn-coat!—but you let her go for your newer prey. Oh, you’re a fine gentleman, James Andersen, a fine faithful gentleman! You don’t hold with strikes. You don’t hold with workmen rising against masters. You hold with keeping in with those that are in power. Clear off—eavesdropper! Get back to Mistress John Goring and your nice brother! He’s as pretty a gentleman as you are, with his dear Miss Gladys!”
Ninsy’s feet staggered beneath her and she began to hang limp upon his arm. She opened her mouth to speak, but could only gasp helplessly. Her wide-open eyes—staring from her pallid face—never left Andersen for a moment. Of Philip she seemed absolutely unconscious. The stone-carver made another step down the hill. His eyes, too, were fixed intently on the girl, and of his rival’s angry speeches he seemed utterly oblivious.
“Get away!” the boy reiterated, beside himself with fury, supporting the drooping form of his companion as if its weight were nothing. “We’ve had enough of your shilly-shallying and trickery! We’ve had enough of your fine manners! A damned cowardly spy—that’s what I call you, you well-behaved gentleman! Get back—can’t you!”
The drooping girl uttered some incoherent words and made a helpless gesture with her hand. Andersen seemed to read her meaning in her eyes, for he paused abruptly in his approach and stretched out his arms.
“Good-bye, Ninsy!” he murmured in a low voice. He said no more, and turning on his heel, scrambled swiftly back over the crest of the ridge and disappeared from view.
Philip flung a parting taunt after him, and then, lifting the girl bodily off her feet, staggered down the slope to the cottage, holding her in his arms.