She was purposely being maddening, and she knew to the
uttermost the value, as a means of torture to the trembling man before
her, of the slight lift of her upper lip as she looked at him.
"Quite finished?" she asked, as he paused. "Then perhaps you'll let me
go? _Good-bye._"
He watched her out of sight, and then wiping his face carefully with his
handkerchief, returned to the house.
Crossing the park by a footpath that was now half-buried in fallen
leaves, she came out on the high road, and turning to the left, took a
steep path leading to the downs.
She walked with unusual rapidity for a woman, climbing the path without
relaxing her gait or losing her breath. The sharp, damp air brought to
her face colour that Carron had been unable to call up. He was, poor
wretch, so utterly secondary to her, that he was as little important as
the long-forgotten spider. It was Joyselle who occupied her thoughts,
whom her mental eyes saw, as she walked steadily seawards, as plainly as
if he had been with her.
The next morning would begin a respite for her, in one sense, for he was
going away. His old mother was ill in Falaise, and he was going to see
her. "Then," he had added, "I must visit a friend in Paris.
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