He was
no longer afraid of her.
He stood thinking. Hours seemed to pass.
'Come along!' he said, at last, and he began to move off down the road.
Sally followed. The possibility of refusing did not enter her mind.
'Where are you going?' she asked. It was unbearable, this silence.
He did not answer.
In this fashion, he leading, she following, they went down the road
into a lane, and through a gate into a field. They passed into a second
field, and as they did so Sally's heart gave a leap. Ted Pringle was
there.
Ted Pringle was a big young man, bigger even than Tom Kitchener, and,
like Tom, he was of silent habit. He eyed the little procession
inquiringly, but spoke no word. There was a pause.
'Ted,' said Tom, 'there's been a mistake.'
He stepped quickly to Sally's side, and the next moment he had swung
her off her feet and kissed her.
To the type of mind that Millbourne breeds, actions speak louder than
words, and Ted Pringle, who had gaped, gaped no more. He sprang
forward, and Tom, pushing Sally aside, turned to meet him.
I cannot help feeling a little sorry for Ted Pringle. In the light of
what happened, I could wish that it were possible to portray him as a
hulking brute of evil appearance and worse morals--the sort of person
concerning whom one could reflect comfortably that he deserved all he
got.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53