Hill sat up on the pavement and mopped the blood from his cheek. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. "A neighbour offered me a drive to Paddington; and, as I haven't heard of my son for some time, I couldn't resist the temptation of stepping on to inquire after him, and to thank you for your great goodness to us both, I've brought a little garden-stuff and a few new-laid eggs for you, Ma'am," she added turning to Mrs. Kneebone,—pray go!" implored Winifred. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. She told me the tale the other night, and I've only elaborated it. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. The ruse succeeded almost beyond his expectation. But the offences I have committed are venial in comparison with what I should commit were I to wed your father. ‘You usually do,’ he said lightly. We'll have him on his way before many days. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction.
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