“You have quite an agreeable way of speaking; and as you are not related to me by any blood ties, I am willing to be civil to you. Call out to that boy to get out of my sight—I know he is hiding behind that tree yonder. You are perfectly safe—I would not hurt a hair of your pretty head. But he is different.”
“Go home, Murray,” called out Nance.
He gave a low whistle in answer, and they heard his footsteps vanishing down the hill.
“Now that is right,” said the mad woman, breathing a sigh of relief. “Now I can really talk to you. Would you like to know why I am not confined in an asylum? Would you like to know why I am kept in that dull Queen Anne wing? You could not guess the reason, but I will tell it to you.”
“You shall some day,” said Nancy; “but now let me take you home.”
“I will tell you before I go. I have followed you on purpose to tell you. Do you know what you did when you married Adrian Rowton?”
“Made myself very happy,” said Nancy in a faltering voice.
“So you think, you poor goose. Do you know what Adrian Rowton is?”
“I would rather you did not tell me.”