After they had gone some
way in silence, he spoke.
"Have you met--Sir Mortimer Carnaby--often?" he inquired.
"Yes," she answered, then seeing his scowling look, added, "very
often, oh, very often indeed, sir!"
"Ha!" said frowning Barnabas, "and is he one of the many who
have--told you their love?"
"Yes."
"Hum," said Barnabas, and strode on in gloomy silence. Seeing which
she smiled in the shadow of her hood, and thereafter grew angry all
at once.
"And pray, why not, sir?" she demanded, haughtily, "though, indeed,
it does not at all concern you; and he is at least a gentleman, and
a friend of the Prince--"
"And has an excellent eye for horseflesh--and women," added Barnabas.
Now when he said this, she merely looked at him once, and thereafter
forgot all about him, whereby Barnabas gradually perceived that his
offence was great, and would have made humble atonement, yet found
her blind and deaf, which was but natural, seeing that, for her, he
had ceased to exist.
But they reached a stile. It was an uncommonly high stile, an
awkward stile at any time, more especially at night. Nevertheless,
she faced it resolutely, even though Barnabas had ceased to exist.
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