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John
Cavendish
frowned
and
changed
the
subject
.
“
Come
for
a
stroll
,
Hastings
.
This
has
been
a
most
rotten
business
.
She
always
had
a
rough
tongue
,
but
there
is
no
stauncher
friend
in
England
than
Evelyn
Howard
.
”
He
took
the
path
through
the
plantation
,
and
we
walked
down
to
the
village
through
the
woods
which
bordered
one
side
of
the
estate
.
As
we
passed
through
one
of
the
gates
on
our
way
home
again
,
a
pretty
young
woman
of
gipsy
type
coming
in
the
opposite
direction
bowed
and
smiled
.
“
That
’
s
a
pretty
girl
,
”
I
remarked
appreciatively
.
John
’
s
face
hardened
.
“
That
is
Mrs
.
Raikes
.
”
“
The
one
that
Miss
Howard
—
—
”
“
Exactly
,
”
said
John
,
with
rather
unnecessary
abruptness
.
I
thought
of
the
white
-
haired
old
lady
in
the
big
house
,
and
that
vivid
wicked
little
face
that
had
just
smiled
into
ours
,
and
a
vague
chill
of
foreboding
crept
over
me
.
I
brushed
it
aside
.
