“What lady?” asked Mr. Cardew—as if he were frightened, Tom thought.
“The lady coming down there just against the willow.”
Mr. Cardew was short-sighted, and could not see her. He made as if he would go to meet her, but he stopped, returned, and remained standing. The figure approached, but before Tom could discern anything more than that it was a woman, it disappeared behind the hedge up the little bypath that cut off the corner into Rectory Lane.
“She’s gone,” said Tom. “I suppose she was not coming here after all.”
“Which way has she gone?” asked Mr. Cardew, looking straight on the ground and scratching it with his stick.
“Into the town.”
“I must be going, I think, Mr. Catchpole; good-night.”
“I’ll walk with you as far as your door, sir. There’s something I want to say to you.”
Mr. Cardew did not reply, and meditated for a moment.
“It is a lovely evening. We will sit here a little longer. What is it?”