Memories of five years ago were flooding his mind. Had he really been here, or had he only dreamed of it? Surely that was the hill down which he had come; surely that clump of trees on the right had been there before. And—could that be the very hedge?
It was.
And there was a woman caught in it.
IV
George ran down the hill, his heart thumping heavily at his ribs.... She had her back towards him.
“Can I be of any assistance?” he said in his best manner. But she didn’t need to be rich now; there was that little house at Bedford Park.
She turned round.
It was Gertie Morrison!
Silly of him; of course, it wasn’t Miss Morrison; but it was extraordinarily like her. Prettier, though.
“Why, Mr. Crosby!” she said.