“NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. If you will think only of one trifling aspect—the inconvenience it must be to us to explain your absence—I think you may begin to realize what it all means for us. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance.
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