"Walk twenty-eight miles? Ridiculous!"
"You're not going alone."
"I am." This with a little stamp of one of the brown brogues, mighty fetching.
"I shall not force my company on you, if that is what you fear."
"But how absurd! Do you intend following me?"
"Yes—until you are within easy range of the railway."
"Mr. Armathwaite, I'm perfectly well able to take care of myself."
"I'm sure of it, Meg. But a cousin should be cousinly. Our relationship will not be close. Say, a distance of two hundred yards."
He smiled into her eyes; his stern face softened wonderfully when he smiled.
"I couldn't think of permitting it," she pouted, eyeing him with a new interest.