“You cannot say that you did not expect me,” he answered. He chuckled. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. "No," replied Jonathan, moodily. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved. “You needn’t be worried,” she said quietly.
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