She had two important letters to write; she must go and watch Mr.
McCready sketching, as she had promised to do, or the old fellow would
never forgive her; and finally she invited the fuming M.P. to fish the
preserved water with her, accompanied by the odd-man as gilly. At this
Geoffrey's patience fairly broke. He faced her, crimson, in the inn
parlour; forgetting Lucy altogether and standing in front of the door, so
that Lucy could not escape and could only roll herself in a curtain and
look out of the window.
"I didn't come here to fish, Helena--or to sketch--but simply and solely
to talk to you! And I have come a long way. Suppose we take a walk?"
Helena eyed him. She was a little pale--but composed.
"At your service. Lead on, Sir Oracle!"
They went out together, Geoffrey taking command, and Lucy watched them
depart, across the foot-bridge, and by a green path that would lead them
before long to the ferny slopes of the mountain beyond the oak-wood. As
Helena was mounting the bridge, a servant of the inn ran out with a
telegram which had just arrived and gave it her.
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