"I was anxious," he confessed. "The roads are not likely to be very quiet to-day. And after sunset—"
"Yes," said Addie. "No doubt it seems strange to you that I should choose this day and this time—"
"I hardly know what I should have done if I had seen nothing of you when I reached the milestone," he went on, interrupting her. His curiosity was awakened now that he was so close to Addie's little mystery, but he was anxious that she should not feel bound to tell him anything she would rather keep to herself—very anxious that she should understand that he would not pry into her secrets.
"If you had gone much farther you would have missed me," she said.
"Which way did you come?"
"I did not come straight from home. Do you see that little red house? I am drinking tea there, and spending a quiet evening."
"How very pleasant!" said Percival. "And who has the privilege of entertaining you?"
"Mrs. Wardlaw. She is the widow of an officer—quite young. She is a friend of mine: she lives with an invalid aunt, an old Mrs. Watson."
"And what does Mrs. Wardlaw think of your taking a little stroll by yourself in the evening?"
"Mrs. Wardlaw asked me there on purpose. Yesterday I saw her at the show, and gave her a little note as we shook hands. This morning came an invitation to me to go and drink tea there. I told mamma and Lottie I should go—papa is out—so one of the servants walked there with me at half-past six, and will call for me again at ten or a little after."