'I think to do so,' said Ethelberta.

'I am going to Normandy myself,' said a voice behind her, and without
turning she knew that Neigh was standing there.

They next went outside, and Lord Mountclere offered Ethelberta his arm on
the ground of assisting her down the burnished grass slope. Ethelberta,
taking pity upon him, took it; but the assistance was all on her side;
she stood like a statue amid his slips and totterings, some of which
taxed her strength heavily, and her ingenuity more, to appear as the
supported and not the supporter. The incident brought Neigh still
further from his retirement, and she learnt that he was one of a yachting
party which had put in at Knollsea that morning; she was greatly relieved
to find that he was just now on his way to London, whence he would
probably proceed on his journey abroad.

Ethelberta adhered as well as she could to her resolve that Neigh should
not speak with her alone, but by dint of perseverance he did manage to
address her without being overheard.

'Will you give me an answer?' said Neigh. 'I have come on purpose.'

'I cannot just now. I have been led to doubt you.'

'Doubt me? What new wrong have I done?'

'Spoken jestingly of my visit to Farnfield.'

'Good ---! I did not speak or think of you. When I told that incident I