at trifles.
What does it matter if you can get over best by assuming a masculine
equestrian attitude for a moment on the top bar? There! And now, down
the hill again, away to your left. Take to your heels, and be thankful
they are not high ones. Never mind if your hair is coming down. You have
a thousand good qualities, Ruth, high principles and a tender
conscience, but you are not a swift runner, and you have not played
"Sally Water" all day for nothing. Molly is far in front now. A heavy
trampling is not far behind; nay, it is closer than you thought. And
your eyes are becoming misty, Ruth, and armies of drums are beating
every other sound out of your ears--that shouting behind you, for
instance. The intoxicated, murderous lunatic is close behind. One
minute! Two minutes! How many more seconds can you keep it up? Through
the young plantation, down the hill, into the sandy road again, the
sandy, uphill road. How much longer can you keep it up?

* * * * *

Charles strolled quietly homeward, enjoying the beauties of nature, and
reflecting on the quantity of rabbit-shooting that Mr. Thursby must
enjoy. He may also have mused on Lady Grace, for anything that can be
known to the contrary, and have possibly made a mental note that if it
had been she whom he had asked to walk home with him, instead of Ruth,
he would not have been alone at that moment. Be that how it may, he
leisurely pursued his path until a fallen tree beside the bank looked so
inviting that (Evelyn and Ralph having gone out to friends at a
distance) Charles, who was in no hurry to return to Lady Mary, seated
himself thereon, with a cigarette to bear him company.

To him, with rent garments and dust upon her head, and indeed all over
her, suddenly appeared Molly; Molly, white with panic, breathless,
unable to articulate, pointing in the direction from which she had come.
In a moment Charles was tearing down the road at full speed. A tall,
swaying figure almost ran against him at the first turn, and Ruth only
avoided him to collapse suddenly in the dry ditch, her face in the bank,
and a yard of sash biting the dust along the road behind her.

Her pursuer stopped short. Charles made a step towards him and stopped
short also. The two men stood and looked at each other without
speaking.

When Ruth found herself in a position to make observations she
discovered that she was sitting by the road-side, with her head resting
again