I thought I had succeeded in avoiding him, but he must have seen me when I was not conscious of his presence--he must have recognised me." She looked down at her worn shoes; the tears fell silently; she smoothed her gray gown for lack of employment for her restless hands.
"Dear," he said, "do you believe he went to Ailsa with his story about you ?" "Oh, yes, yes, I am sure.

What else could it be that has angered her--that drives me away from her--that burns me with the dreadful gaze she turns on me--chills me with her more dreadful silence?
.

.

.

Why did he do it?
I don't know--oh, I don't know.