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In this fashion they came to the door of Pollard's study and saw through it, since it had been flung wide open and so left. In a far corner of the room was Winifred Waverly, her face dead white, her body pressed tight into the angle of the walls, her hands twisting before her, her eyes going swiftly to the two entering figures from that other figure which had held her fascinated.
To the rest of the human scheme she submitted with a faint bored indifference. She had a pekinese dog called Looloo, which she loved. 'Let us draw Looloo, said Gudrun, 'and see if we can get his Looliness, shall we? 'Darling! cried Winifred, rushing to the dog, that sat with contemplative sadness on the hearth, and kissing its bulging brow. 'Darling one, will you be drawn?
"Hark!" cried Winifred, "Thames is arrived. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard. Now you will learn the result." "Heaven support me!" cried Mrs. Sheppard, faintly. "Breathe at this phial," said Winifred. Shortly afterwards, it seemed an age to the anxious mother, Mr. Wood entered the room, followed by Thames.
'Do you have a nice fire there when it's very cold? she said. 'Yes, Winifred, I said. She then sank into silence, while I kept plying her with food. After she had appeased her hunger she sat looking into the pool, quite unconscious, apparently, of my presence by her side, and lost in a reverie similar to that which I had seen at the cottage.
If I had one tithe of that objective power and that instinct for description which used to amaze me in Winifred as a child, I could give here a picture of a face which the reader could never forget. If it was not beautiful in detail it was illuminated by an expression that gave a unity of beauty to the whole. And what was the expression?
Ruth managed to thank her mother for permission to go on Thursday, and to say that she would be sure and see Farmer Withely and give him the message the next morning, and then went back to her seat in the garden. She had just taken up Cecilia, when the garden gate was pushed open and Winifred came running up the path.
Sproatly, who glanced at them, noticed that Winifred did the same. Then Mrs. Hastings spoke. "I don't think you have met Miss Ismay, Sally," she said. Sally merely said that she had not, and Sproatly became more sure that the situation was an interesting one, when Mrs. Hastings formally presented her. It was clear to him that Agatha was somewhat puzzled by Sally's attitude.
Do you floor every man you see annoying a woman in the streets?" "Well er " "Just so. Winifred interested you. She interests me. I mean to keep an eye on her, a friendly eye. If you and she come together again, let me know." "Really " "No wonder you are ready with a punch. You won't let a man speak. Listen, now. You've read of the Yacht Mystery and the lassoing of Ronald Tower?" "Mr. and Mrs.
"Shall we do so?" whispered Winifred to her father. "By all means," returned Wood; "don't delay an instant." And, followed by the young couple, who gazed wistfully at the poor sufferer, he hastily quitted the room, and locked the door after him. Mrs. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer.
He was not clever, nor even 'literary'. No, but the intonation of his voice, and the movement of his supple, handsome body, and the fine texture of his flesh and his hair, the slight arch of his nose, the quickness of his blue eyes would easily take the place of poetry. Winifred loved him, loved him, this southerner, as a higher being. A higher being, mind you. Not a deeper.
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