"I think I better not."

"Does that mean you are still angry?"

"I didn't know I had been, Captain. Perhaps I spoke rather hastily, but
you must forgive that."

Her hand was extended, and he came a step back from the door to grasp
it, and lift the fingers to his lips. With a fierce throbbing of the
heart I turned my back to them, staring out the window. There was a low
murmur of voices, and then the door clicked. I never moved, watching Le
Gaire go down the steps, his men swing into their saddles, at a sharp
order, and ride away in column of fours. When they had all disappeared a
single horse remained, tied to the railing of the veranda. I turned
about, and picked up my hat from the floor. Miss Hardy was seated again
at the table, her head resting upon one hand. I could see the round,
white arm where the sleeve fell away, and her cheeks were flushed. She
did not lift her eyes at my movement, and, half angry at her studied
indifference, I advanced straight toward the door. But there I
hesitated, unable to part without at least another word. She was looking
at me now.

"May I hope ever to meet you again?" I asked.

"I can promise nothing as to the future," she returned soberly. "But I
wish to speak to you now, before you go. Sit down here, just a moment."

I hesitated, keen as to the value of time, yet curious as to what she
would say, and swayed strongly by her influence.