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Updated: September 17, 2025
He jerked forth a couple of bags and then proceeded to lift from the tonneau of the car a vague but animate something, which, an instant later, resolved itself into the form of a woman at his side. "I've settled with the company, Meaders," hurriedly announced Windomshire to the man on the seat. "The car is in your hands now." "Yes, sir; I understand. Your week is up to-night.
A hundred yards to the left a light bobbed about, reminding them of childhood's will-o'-the-wisp. Without a word Windomshire drew her around the church, stumbling over a discarded pew seat that stood against the wall. Groaning with pain, he urged her to crouch down with him behind the seat. All the while he held the umbrella manfully over her devoted head.
He'll be enough of a damned ass to try to kiss her before all these people, too." Whereupon, he closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them, Miss Courtenay was walking beside him and asking questions about the weather. Her cheeks were very pink. Windomshire had awkwardly clasped the hand of Miss Thursdale, muttering something not quite intelligible, even to himself.
Windomshire moved about in solitude, gnashing his teeth, while Derby unceremoniously whisked the dazed Anne off for pleasant walks or held her at bay in some secluded corner of the parlours. By dinner-time, encouraged by Joe's wild but cautious applause, he had driven Windomshire almost to distraction.
"She's on that train, confound you, and I'm going away with her whether you like it or not or anybody else, for that matter," said Windomshire, refusing to budge an inch. "Well, you'll have a damned hard time getting rid of me," roared Joe, trying to break past his rival. A baggage-man leaped between them in time to prevent blows.
Jim Carpenter came out of his trance at this. "Say, are you the fellow Rev. Smith was to marry? Well, he won't be here. There's a surprise pound party at his house and the whole town is there. He couldn't leave to save his soul. It's the way he gets his living." "Oh, Anne!" cried Windomshire, in real despair. Anne slipped into the breach with rare old English fortitude.
Windomshire and Eleanor, under the espionage of the "oldest friend of the family," moped and sighed with a frankness that could not have escaped more discerning eyes. Mrs. Van Truder, having established herself as the much needed chaperon, sat back complacently and gave her charges every opportunity to hold private and no doubt sacred communication in the double seat just across the aisle.
What the deuce " "Sh! Windomshire, it will cost you your life if she hears you. That was Mrs. Scudaway. You don't know what happened, so I'll tell you. Half a dozen of the women went out with us for a run over the usual course. They are among our best and oldest hunters, too.
Oh er hanged if I know. I er " "Were you riding?" "Well er just a practice run, you know, old man. Er I say, ladies, the 'bus waits!" Two minutes later the 'bus rolled away in the fog and drizzle, leaving Dauntless and Windomshire alone on the steps. "Good-night," said the Englishman, after an awkward silence. "Good-night," was the response.
"Are there any more at home like her?" with a fine chuckle in behalf of his wit. "She's of a very good family, I believe," said Windomshire, looking about helplessly. Mrs. Scudaway caught the look in his eyes and remembered that English gentlemen are not supposed to discuss women outside of their own set. "It must be time for the 'bus," she said. "We're all going in by the 10.10, Mr. Windomshire."
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