"I am going to see my friend Annie Lipton, who lives in Westover. There
is half a mile of lonely road before I get there. That man, for all I
know, may be keeping sight of us in the woods over there. While you are
going back to chase him, he may come up with me. Well, run along if you
want to. I am not afraid." But the girl's lips quivered, and she paled
again.

James glanced at the stretch of road ahead. There was not a house in
sight. Woods were on one side, on the other was a rolling expanse of
meadowland covered with dried last year's grass, like coarse
oakum-colored hair.

"I think I had better keep on with you," James said.

"You can do exactly as you choose," the girl replied defiantly, but
tremulously. "I am not in the least dependent upon men to escort me. I
wander miles around by myself. This is the first time I have seemed to
be in the slightest danger. I dare say there was no danger this time,
only he came up behind like a cat, and--"

"He didn't say anything?"

"No, he didn't speak. He only tried to make me turn my head, so he could
see my face, and directly it seemed to me that I must die rather than
let him. He was trying to make me turn my head. I think maybe he was an
insane man."

"I will go on with you," said James.