Freddy was neither clever, nor subtle, nor beautiful, and what
prevented Cecil from saying, any minute, "It would be wrong not
to loathe Freddy"? And what would she reply? Further than Freddy
she did not go, but he gave her anxiety enough. She could only
assure herself that Cecil had known Freddy some time, and that
they had always got on pleasantly, except, perhaps, during the
last few days, which was an accident, perhaps.
"Which way shall we go?" she asked him.
Nature--simplest of topics, she thought--was around them. Summer
Street lay deep in the woods, and she had stopped where a
footpath diverged from the highroad.
"Are there two ways?"
"Perhaps the road is more sensible, as we're got up smart."
"I'd rather go through the wood," said Cecil, With that subdued
irritation that she had noticed in him all the afternoon. "Why is
it, Lucy, that you always say the road? Do you know that you have
never once been with me in the fields or the wood since we were
engaged?"
"Haven't I? The wood, then," said Lucy, startled at his
queerness, but pretty sure that he would explain later; it was
not his habit to leave her in doubt as to his meaning.
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