It was a leave-taking, and they were gone.
My heart was bitter against Cousin Edie as I stood looking into her room.

To think that for the sake of a newcomer she could leave us all without one kindly word, or as much as a hand-shake.

And he, too! I had been afraid of what would happen when Jim met him; but now there seemed to be something cowardly in this avoidance of him.

I was angry and hurt and sore, and I went out into the open without a word to my father, and climbed up on to the moors to cool my flushed face.
When I got up to Corriemuir I caught my last glimpse of Cousin Edie.
The little cutter still lay where she had anchored, but a rowboat was pulling out to her from the shore.

In the stern I saw a flutter of red, and I knew that it came from her shawl.