Our greeting was cold and formal; it seemed to me as though a barrier of reserve stood between us. I remembered what had taken place when we last met in a way similar to this. I also called to mind what she had said when she came to me at the little schoolroom in St. Issey.
"How are your father and mother?" I asked presently.
"Mother is wonderful, simply wonderful! As for my father, I can't understand him."
"No?" I said. "He called to see me yesterday."
"Indeed!" She seemed to take no interest in his visit, neither did she ask anything concerning his purpose in coming.
An awkward silence fell between us, and I was on the point of leaving her, when she broke out suddenly:
"I came out in the hope of meeting you! Seeing it was a fine morning, I thought you might be tempted to walk into St. Issey. If I had not met you, I think I should have gone to your house. I wanted to speak to you badly."
"What about?" I asked.
"I don't know," was the reply. "I have nothing to say now I have met you."
"Was it about your brother?"