"
"Neighbours?" she said, half absently. "It is farther off than you
think; and, besides, we know no one. We have no neighbours in that
sense--or friends. My father does not like to see anyone; we live quite
alone--"
"So I've heard--" He stopped and bit his lip; but she did not seem to
have noticed his interruption.
--"So that even if my father did not object to the house or--or--"
"My father," said Stafford with a smile.
A smile answered his candour.
"It would be all the same. And why should it matter to you? You have a
great many friends, no doubt--and we should not be likely to meet."
"Oh, yes, we should!" he said, with the dogged kind of insistence which
also sometimes surprised his friends. "I was going to avail myself of
your permission, and fish the stream--but, of course, I can't do that
now."
"No--I suppose not," she assented. "But we should be sure to meet on
the road--I should be riding--walking."
"But not on this side often," she argued.
A faint, very faint colour had stolen into the clear pallor of her
cheek, her eyes were downcast. She was honestly surprised, and, yes, a
little pleased that he should protest against the close of their
acquaintance; pleased, though why, she could not have told; for it did
not seem to matter.
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