"
"Surely--" she stopped, checking the vehement objection that rose to her
lips. "This girl," she went on as though searching for a plausible
argument, "is it not likely that she was mistaken? We know what these
country people are. And she could not have seen very clearly."
"But," Gifford argued gently, "her statement is confirmed by the finding
of the rope."
Edith Morriston was thinking strenuously, desperately, he could see
that. The words she spoke were but mechanical, the mere froth of a
seething brain. Yet her splendid self-command--and he recognized it with
admiration--never deserted her, however supreme the struggle may have
been to retain it.
A seat was by them; she went across the path to it and sat down. Gifford
saw that she was deadly pale.
"I fear this wretched business is upsetting you, Miss Morriston," he said
gently. "Let me run to the house and fetch something to revive you."
She made a gesture to stay him, and by an effort seemed to shake off the
threatening collapse. "No, no," she said; "please don't. It is very
stupid of me, but these repeated shocks are rather trying. You see one
has never had any experience of the sort before.
Pages:
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170