She looked about to see if any of
the girls were approaching; but they had drifted away together toward
the Town Hall, and she sprang into the saddle and turned toward the
Creston road. There was an almost continual descent to Creston, and with
her feet against the pedals she floated through the still evening
air like one of the hawks she had often watched slanting downward on
motionless wings. Twenty minutes from the time when she had left Miss
Hatchard's door she was turning up the wood-road on which Harney had
overtaken her on the day of her flight; and a few minutes afterward she
had jumped from her bicycle at the gate of the deserted house.
In the gold-powdered sunset it looked more than ever like some frail
shell dried and washed by many seasons; but at the back, whither Charity
advanced, drawing her bicycle after her, there were signs of recent
habitation. A rough door made of boards hung in the kitchen doorway,
and pushing it open she entered a room furnished in primitive camping
fashion.
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