"He sounded an awfully violent young man. You do seem to pick up some queer characters, Mary. I gathered from what you told me after you first met him that he was rather odd. What was he really like?"
"Oh—I don't know. Young, you know, and rather excitable!"
"Where has he gone to?"
"He's travelling about the wolds somewhere, speaking on socialism; but I really don't know."
"Oh, yes, you do! Look at her blushing, Mrs. Toby! Come on, Mary. Tell us the horrid truth!"
"There's nothing to tell. I met him, as I told you, before driving back from Hardrascliffe. Starlight knocked him down and I took him home for three days, as he was quite ill. Then he went to stay at the inn and talked a lot of nonsense to the villagers, but I don't think they understood. He stayed about a week, and took up with the schoolmaster a good deal. He's a most objectionable man, that Coast. But I only saw Mr. Rossitur twice in the street after he left us, and hardly spoke to him then."
Mary hoped that she sounded off-hand and uninterested. She kept her angry, miserable eyes steadfastly on the cradle, so that they should not betray her.
After that encounter in the moonlit road outside the Flying Fox, she had only seen David once. She had met him in the village climbing towards the School House—going to visit that wretched Coast, she supposed.
An overwhelming impulse had conquered her pride and driven her to invite him to tea. But David had turned away abruptly. "Very sorry, indeed, Mrs. Robson. It's awfully good of you to ask me. But I've promised to go up and see your schoolmaster—a most interesting person, full of ideas. He's part of my job, you see, so I mustn't disappoint him."
"Part of his job" indeed! This was the second time he had snubbed her. Very well, then, let him mind his job. Mary would mind hers. She tossed her head.