They soon reached a secluded spot, and found some chairs near an ancient, ivy-covered tree-trunk, surrounded by an iron fence. The sun was shining brightly, and a fawn, which had strayed from the small herd of fallow deer, left off browsing to gaze. As Jimmy and Bridget sat down it turned and slowly ambled away.
"Why did you choose this particular place of all others?" asked Jimmy.
"Once upon a time," said Bridget, "years and years ago, my aunts used to live at Blackheath."
"I should rather like to take you to them at Sandbay," replied Jimmy. "I have been there. They are the dearest old ladies, and your proper place seems to be with them—for the present!"
"Oh, I couldn't," she exclaimed. "Especially after what I imagine you have told them about me. I really couldn't go," she said.
"Then you leave me only one alternative," said Jimmy. "I was anxious to do everything decently and in order, but it appears you won't let me."
"You have not asked why I left Golfney Place," suggested Bridget, leaning forward in her chair and digging the ferrule of her sunshade into the turf.
"I fancy I know," said Jimmy. "You lacked courage to face old
Faversham."
"Oh, how abominably I treated him!" murmured Bridget.
"There is not the least doubt about it," Jimmy admitted.