And, gathering up her black skirt in a slim white hand, she sped down
the church, and was out of the south door before the Hardens had time to
protest, or Aldous Raeburn understood what she was doing.

A vexed word from Miss Harden enlightened him, and he went after the
fugitive, overtaking her just where his gun and dog lay, outside the
churchyard.

"Let me go, Miss Boyce," he said, as he caught her up. "My dog and I
will run there and back."

But Marcella hardly looked at him, or paused.

"Oh no!" she said quickly, "I should like the walk."

He hesitated; then, with a flush which altered his usually quiet,
self-contained expression, he moved on beside her.

"Allow me to go with you then. You are sure to find fresh loads to bring
back. If it's like our harvest festival, the things keep dropping in all
day."

Marcella's eyes were still on the ground.

"I thought you were on your way to shoot, Mr. Raeburn?"

"So I was, but there is no hurry; if I can be useful. Both the birds and
the keeper can wait."

"Where are you going?"