"And you shall know mine. I think you the most cowardly, rude, detestable boy I ever met. I hate and despise you. I only hope you will be punished well one day for your cruelty to me."
"Well, you are a duffer! Crying if anyone says a word to you! I say, who's the old boy coming up the path, getting over the stile at the end of the terrace?"
The girl glanced up and recognised Mr. Fowler with a sense of passionate relief. He was the only person to whom she dared show her moods; in a moment she was sobbing in his arms.
"Why, Elsie, what's this?" asked the quiet voice, as he stroked back her tumbled hair with caressing hand. "Look up, child. Is that Godfrey yonder?"
"Oh, yes—yes—yes! And I hate him!... I ... hate him! I wish he had never come here to make me so unhappy! He is a bad boy! I wish I had never seen him!"
CHAPTER XX.
Here all the summer could I stay,
For there's a Bishop's Teign
And King's Teign
And Coomb at the clear Teign's head,
Where, close by the stream,
You may have your cream,
All spread upon barley bread.
Then who would go
Into dark Soho
And chatter with dank-haired critics
When he can stay
For the new-mown hay
And startle the dappled crickets?
Keats.