Without reply she moved towards the door and he stood aside, allowing her to pass out of the room in silence.
In the hall she encountered Roger, who had ridden over, accompanied by a trio of dogs, and the sight of his big, tweed-clad figure, so solidly suggestive of normal, everyday things, filled her with an unexpected sense of relief. He might not be the man she loved, but he was, at any rate, a sheet-anchor in the midst of the emotional storms that were blowing up around her.
To-day, however, his face wore a clouded, sullen expression when he greeted her.
"What have you been doing with yourself?" he asked, his eyes fastening suspiciously on her flushed cheeks.
She answered him with a poor attempt at her usual nonchalance.
"Oh, Maryon came over this morning, so I've been sitting to him."
"All day? I don't like it too well." The look of displeasure deepened on his face. "People will talk. You know what country folks are like."
Nan's eyes flashed.
"Let them talk! I'm not going to regulate my conduct according to the villagers' standard of propriety," she replied indignantly.
"It isn't merely the villagers," pursued Roger. "Isobel said, only yesterday, she thought it was rather indiscreet."