And now the white dust whirled up by the stout tyres of Sir Josiah’s car, blotted it out. It was gone and Kathleen slipped her hand through Allan’s arm.
Scarsdale saw it. It was done so spontaneously, it seemed so natural that it angered him, his face stiffened. She had married the fellow for money, for nothing else, why did she find it necessary to make such pretence with him? It was mere acting, he knew that, yet he felt she over-acted the part and she fell a little in his estimation, though his love for her and desire of her was no less than before.
A man with bent head trudged past them down the road, he lifted his hand to his hat and touched it as he went, yet never gave them a glance. His hand, having reached his hat, remained with it for some moments, his fingers fumbling at the brim, then he was gone.
"Oh I know, so that is the man, Allan! I can understand that child’s feeling, I don’t like him, I don’t like him, there is something about him——"
Kathleen’s eyes followed the black figure down the road. "I don’t know why," she said, "it may be unjust and probably is, but I—I seemed to feel a chill, a sense of dislike, of distaste as he passed us by!"
"Poor wretch, he is to be pitied since Kathleen dislikes him!" Scarsdale said and a note of irony and sarcasm crept into his voice, which she detected in a moment and her cheeks flushed a little.
"I am sorry," she said gently, "I may be mistaken, I hope I am, one is often mistaken in one’s likes and dislikes, it is not well to trust too much to instinct!"
"What did she mean?" Scarsdale wondered, but he said nothing and they went back into the house, the house that seemed strangely deserted and silent.
When the friends, whose pleasant voices have sounded in the rooms, have gone their ways, like them much or little as we may, there is always a sense of loneliness and desertion about the place. Who can tell if the hospitable door will ever open to them again? Noisy Mr. Coombe and embarrassed Mr. Jobson—we have no great affection for them perhaps, yet because they were here a while ago and the place seems empty without them, we can spare them a passing regret, we can admit to ourselves that we miss them just a little.
"You will find it a little dull now, I am afraid Harold," Kathleen said.