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Updated: June 3, 2025
His own and Miss Courtenay's pieces had come over during the afternoon, skilfully smuggled out of the Thursdale house. Just as he reached the baggage truck a panting, mud-covered individual dashed up from the opposite direction, madly rushing for the train. They tried to avoid a collision, but failed. A second later the two men were staring into each other's eyes, open-mouthed and dismayed.
By Jove, I didn't give myself credit for the cleverness to fool every one so neatly. Really, don't you know, however, I feel a bit sorry for Miss Thursdale. She's a ripping good sort, and I'm sorry on that account." Miss Courtenay erstwhile governess took hold of the lapels of his raincoat and looked seriously up into his face.
She gave the look back brightly, unblushingly, as though the expedient were too simple to need oblique approaches. It was extraordinary how a few words had swept them from an atmosphere of the most complex dissimulations to this contact of naked souls. It was not in Thursdale to expand with the pressure of fate; but something in him cracked with it, and the rift let in new light.
It was the first time he had ever asked her to explain anything; and she had lived so long in dread of offering elucidations which were not wanted, that she seemed unable to produce one on the spot. At last she said slowly: "She came to find out if you were really free." Thursdale colored again. "Free?" he stammered, with a sense of physical disgust at contact with such crassness.
"Are you sure you'll never regret giving her up for me with all her money?" "Oh, I say, Anne dear, it's I who am running away, not you. I've always wanted you all my life. I've been something of a cad " "It wasn't your fault. Mrs. Thursdale was bound to have you. It's her way." "It hurts my pride to say it, but hanged if I think er Eleanor was very strong for the match.
I went back there to open a window and at least two men coughed one of 'em sneezed. We're being watched. This man says he heard a woman back there, and I saw a funny kind of light in the graveyard." "Hang 'em!" growled Joe. "We can't stop now. Open up the church, Jim." "Can't. Lost my key. Is this Miss Thursdale? Glad to meet you. The window's the only way and they're surely watching back there."
It was too sedate and quiet to be fashionable; the select few who went there sought rest from the frivolities of the world. Eleanor Thursdale had spent one tiresome but proper season there immediately after the death of her father. She hated everything in connection with the place except the little old- fashioned church at the extreme end of the village street, fully half a mile from the hotel.
Good Heavens, just think of being lost in a graveyard!" "And climbing four fences and a tree," moaned Eleanor Thursdale. They had come up through the graveyard by mistake. "It wasn't a tree; it was a fence post. Great Scot! There's no light in the church. What's up? Wait here, dear, and I'll investigate." "Alone? Never!" she cried.
It would be just like them. It may be dreadfully serious. You don't know as much about men as I do. They're terribly " "Please don't worry, Miss Thursdale," he said, smiling in recollection of his football days. "You'll find there's been nothing bloody about all this. The delay is vexatious, but only temporary, I'm sure."
It was common knowledge that he was desperately in love with pretty Eleanor Thursdale, daughter of the eminently fashionable and snobbishly aristocratic widow Thursdale, mistress of many millions and leader of select hundreds. Moreover, it was now pretty well known that Mrs. Thursdale had utterly lost sight of Dauntless in surveying the field of desirable husbands for Eleanor.
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