She ran neatly, deftly, all of a piece as a boy runs, no trace of disarray or feminine floundering in her action.

More than ever, indeed, did she appear a fine nymph-like creature; so that, watching her flight Tom Verity was touched alike with self-reproach and admiration.

For he had succeeded in asserting himself beyond his intention.

Had overcome, had worsted her; yet, as it occurred to him, won a but barren victory.

That she was alienated and resentful he could hardly doubt, while the riddle he had rather meanly used to procure her discomfiture remained unanswered as ever, dipped indeed only deeper in mystery.