“Nothing,” he said. “Don’t be alarmed; I am merely here by chance.”
“But why have you followed me?”
“No, I have not followed you, I assure you of that. I did not know that you were here, even. I beg you not to be alarmed—”
“Why, then, are you here?” she persisted.
“This is a public cemetery, you know. I came to see a grave, just as you have—”
“This grave?”
“How can you possibly guess that,” he asked, “since you have never before seen me, and do not know who I am?”
“You stopped here, did you not?” she asked. “You stopped, and looked strangely at me.”
“Certainly I looked at you,” admitted Harcourt. “I did not realize that I looked ‘strangely.’ However, let me be frank. I did come to see your sister’s grave.”
“My sister!” said she, shrinking, as from the touch of a wound, “how do you know? what interest can you have strong enough to bring you?”