It was too
astounding for belief.
They had stopped now, at the end of the ride; the man talking earnestly,
it seemed; Miss Morriston standing with head bent down and scoring the
grass with her walking-stick as though in doubt or consideration. Would
they turn and put the man's identity beyond uncertainty?
Gifford had not long to wait. Miss Morriston seemed to draw off and began
to walk back down the ride; her companion turned and promptly put himself
by her side. There was no doubt now as to who he was. Gervase Henshaw.
As one glance, now that the face was revealed, proved that, Gifford drew
back quickly and hurried deeper into the thick wood fearful lest his
footsteps should be heard. When he had gone a safe distance an intense
curiosity made him halt and turn. From his place of hiding he could just
see the light of the ride along which the couple would pass. He hated
the idea of spying upon Edith Morriston; after all, if she chose to walk
and talk with this man it was no business of his; but a supreme distrust
of Henshaw, unreasonable enough, perhaps, but none the less keen, made
him suspicious that the man might be playing some cowardly game, might
have drawn the girl to him by unfair means.
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