She was the first to hurry away.
He looked after her small figure, noted her nervous gait and the agitated
movement of her hand as the streamers on her poor cape flapped and
fluttered, the sport of the unfeeling wind.
CHAPTER VIII
A Painful Misunderstanding
And now, on early evenings and Saturday afternoons when the weather was
fine, Miss Quincey was to be found in Primrose Hill Park. Not that
anybody ever came to look for Miss Quincey. Nevertheless, whether she was
walking up and down the paths or sitting on a bench, Miss Quincey had a
certain expectant air, as if at any moment Dr. Cautley might come tearing
round the corner with his coat-tails flying, or as if she might look up
and find him sitting beside her and talking to her. But he did not come.
There are some histories that never repeat themselves.
And he had never called since that day--Miss Quincey remembered it well;
it was Saturday the thirteenth of March. April and May went by; she had
not seen him now for more than two months; and she began to think there
must be a reason for it.
At last she saw him; she saw him twice running. Once in the park where
they had sat together, and once in the forked road that leads past that
part of St.
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