She drew her
hand away--and it had to be drawn, for he released it only slowly and
reluctantly--and without a word she left the shed.
Stafford watched her as she went lightly and quickly up the road
towards the Hall, Bess and Donald leaping round her; then, with a sharp
feeling of elation, a feeling that was as novel as it was confusing, he
sprang on his horse, and putting him to a gallop, rode for home, with
one thought standing clearly out: that before many hours--the next
morning--he should see her again.
Once he shifted his whip to his left hand, and stretching out his right
hand, looked at it curiously: it seemed to be still thrilling with the
contact of her small, warm palm.
As he came up to The Woodman Inn he remembered, what he had forgotten
in the morning, that he had left his cigar-case on the dining-room
mantel-shelf. He pulled up, and giving Adonis to the hostler, who
rushed forward promptly, he went into the inn. There was no one in the
hall, and knowing that he should be late for luncheon, he opened the
dining-room door and walked in, and straight up to the fireplace.
The cigar-case was where he had left it, and he turned to go out.
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