Chapter Five.
“By Jove!” exclaimed Steele, when he vaulted a stile and came upon her, picking primroses from the hedge. “This is a piece of luck!”
Prudence looked up from her occupation. The sunlight was in her surprised blue eyes, in her hair; it shone on her white dress, and on the pale wilting flowers in her hand. The effect of her was dazzling—a white shining thing of milk and roses against the soft greens of the bank. He had sprung upon her unawares, and it took her a little while to recover from her astonishment. And yet she had been thinking of him—thinking how agreeable it would be if the event which was now realised could only befall. She had been guilty of loitering, of watching the field-path furtively, and wishing she knew which direction he took when he walked abroad. And now he stood before her, gay, and unmistakably pleased, with a laugh in his grey eyes which expressed his satisfaction. He had been thinking about her as she had been thinking of him, and wishing that he had made better use of his time that afternoon, and discovered her favourite haunts. It was all right now; they had found one another. That was good, because on the morrow he was going away.
“You’d never guess how hard I’ve been wishing I might happen upon you this morning,” he said as they shook hands. “It looks as though wishing had brought its reward. I’m rather a believer in telepathy. Something of what has been in my mind must unconsciously have transmitted itself to yours. Have you given me any thought, I wonder? I’ve given you so many,” he added, observing her blush.
“I was thinking of you at the moment you appeared,” Prudence answered with audacious candour. “You see, William mentioned at breakfast that you were leaving to-morrow. I wondered why you came? So few people come here—except commercial travellers.”
“There are one or two at the hotel,” he said, laughing. “Save that they possess enormous appetites, I haven’t observed them particularly. The landlady informed me that they are very exclusive. I came on the firm’s business—Morgan Bros. We’re woollen too, you know.”
“Yes I know. Mr Morgan stays with us sometimes.”
She regarded him with renewed interest. It was a little disappointing to discover that he followed the same occupation as William; she had placed him in her thoughts amid more romantic surroundings. The factory, despite its financial magnificence, struck her as rather sordid. He became aware of the criticism in her eyes and smiled in some amusement.