The figure stopped. It hesitated, then started forward. A twig snapped in the darkness. Then, though the river ran silently here the noise of it rose like a flood, thundering in her ears.
"Connie, darling! Stop! I want to tell you something."
She dared not run too quickly. A false step, and she might feel those ice-cold waters close above her head. If she delayed, though, she might hear the splash of Connie's final plunge.
"Oh, Connie, please don't go so fast. I can't keep up. Please stop."
In the dark, Connie turned to face her.
"Muriel—what do you want? Why have you come?" With a sudden sharp anguish, "Have you got my letter?"
"Your letter? Your letter? No. Ben's got your letter."
"Ben? Of course he has! Of course. Oh, isn't that like you, Muriel! You come down here to me, but you let Ben have the letter! I might have known. Here I've been telling myself that perhaps you'd find it and not say anything and just come down here, and now—I might have known!"
"But Ben found it first. What could I do?"
"Of course he did. He would. Oh, now for Heaven's sake go home. I'm sick of you. Can't you leave me alone just for a minute? What do you want? Why did you follow me? Go back. Go back, I tell you."