Her clothes were country-made, but perfect as regarded fit and
trimness, her beflowered hat was worn with a touch of coquettish
grace, a trifle un-English, but very delightful. She had not an atom
of shyness or embarrassment. Only there was a great surprise in her
face as she held out her hands to Wingrave.
"I know who you are," she exclaimed. "You are Sir Wingrave Seton. To
think that I never guessed."
"You remember seeing me, then?" he remarked, and his tone sounded all
the colder after the full richness of her young voice.
"I just remember it--only just," she answered. "You see you did not
take much notice of me that time, did you? But I have lived amongst
your ancestors too long to make any mistake. Why have you stayed away
from Tredowen so long?"
"I have been abroad," Wingrave answered. "I am not fond of England."
"You had trouble here, I know," she said frankly. "But that is all
past and over. I think that you must forget how beautiful your home is
or you would never bear to live away from it. Now, please, may I ask
you a question?"
"Any that you think necessary," Wingrave answered. "Spare me as much
as possible; I am not fond of them."
"Shall I leave you two together for a little time?" Mr. Pengarth
suggested, gathering up some papers.
"Certainly not," Wingrave said shortly. "There is not the slightest
necessity for it."
Mr. Pengarth resumed his seat.
"Just as you please," he answered.
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