Some one spoke to me from behind. It was Dora.
"You are the first on the scene."
I turned. She was standing at the open window of the morning-room.
"Am I the first to whom you have wished good morning?"
"The very first. Good morning, Mr. Townsend."
She held out to me her hand. I retained it in mine. A wild impulse seized me to kiss her on the lips. It was all I could do to hold my own against it. Her eyes were so provoking, her mouth so tempting. She allowed me to keep her hand in mine, though she might surely have seen my desire showing through my face. And I have no doubt she did, for she smiled at me.
"Well--good luck."
"I will keep my promise."
I released her hand. A gleam of colour was glowing on her cheeks. I doubted if she was not making fun of me.
"After all, papa cannot come. He wishes you to shoot without him. He says that he will certainly be down tonight."