They rowed away, leaving Windomshire and Eleanor
standing among the willows, ill at ease and troubled beyond
expression.
CHAPTER V
AS NIGHT APPROACHES
Neither spoke until the boat came to its slippery, uncertain landing-
place on the opposite side of the river. Then each breathed easier, in
a sigh that seemed to express both relief and dismay.
"It's a very ugly looking river," she murmured encouragingly. She was
afraid he might feel obliged, in honour, to offer an explanation for
his presence, perhaps attempt to convince her in some tangible way
that she was to expect nothing but slavish devotion from him in the
future.
"I don't wonder that the bridge gave way," he replied politely. They
looked at each other involuntarily, and then instantly looked away.
"I'd give my head to know what she expects of me," thought Windomshire
miserably.
"How I despise that old woman!" welled up in Eleanor's bitter heart.
Everything was awry. Luckily for both of them a small boy slipped into
the river at that moment. He was rescued by the brakeman, but not
until the catastrophe had served its purpose as a godsend.
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