But there flashed through his mind a suspicion he would have given anything to have removed.
[CHAPTER LV.]
Eugene Mallard thought long and earnestly after Ida had left him: "What can Ida want with the cash, and in so short a time?"
He put on his hat, went round to the stables, and ordered his horse. A canter over the hills would drive away these gloomy, unhappy thoughts.
The sun had crept to its zenith, and was now sinking toward the west as he reined his horse before the little village inn at Hampton Corners.
Every one knew Eugene Mallard. The proprietor of the hotel on the old Virginia turnpike road warmly welcomed him. He had concluded to rest a little and refresh his horse.
As he lighted his cigar and sat down on the porch, the first person he saw was Dora Staples.
"I am really so delighted to see you, Mr. Mallard," she said in her pretty lisping accent.