"I really couldn't tell, Mr. Galbraith," replied the widow a little sharply.
John remained silent and abashed for a few moments, and at last she spoke.
"I got your letter, of course, this morning. What was it you were going to tell me? Not about the glass bottles, I hope?" and she showed an even row of pearly teeth between her red lips.
A cold sweat burst out on Galbraith's forehead, and his tongue seemed paralysed. "I--I," he stammered, and then he clutched at a straw. "But what a number of people are on the road to-day."
"There is the short cut, and I think we had better take that." The widow lifted her skirts slightly, and daintily tripped across. John caught a glimpse of an exquisite foot and ankle as he followed.
"Lord," he cried in his heart, "deliver me from temptation!"
Arrived at the opposite side of the road, Halsa turned to her companion, and putting out her foot, looked ruefully at it.
"I have made my boots so dusty--what a horrid road this is!"
John glanced round him nervously, then he pulled out his handkerchief.
"May I?" he asked in a hesitating manner as he waved the folds in the air.