The Coldstone Read Online Free PDF Page A

sparkle in them which he found hard to reconcile with her rustic shyness. The lashes were black, and fine, and soft.
    Anthony removed his gaze with an effort. It was possible to do this because the black lashes had swept down suddenly and covered the sparkle.
    â€œHaven’t you seen the Stones before?”
    â€œNo,” said the girl. Then quickly, “No, sir.”
    â€œDo you want to go in and look at them?”
    â€œNo, sir—I’ll be getting back.”
    They began to walk along side by side. Anthony felt rather worried about it. If they walked back together into Ford St. Mary, the whole village would probably talk—he hadn’t been brought up in a village for nothing. On the other hand, he didn’t want to be rude. She might think it most awfully rude if he turned back now. Besides, there was the fellow who had glared.
    He had got as far as this, when the girl said,
    â€œI’ll be getting back now.”
    â€œYes, of course,” said Anthony hastily. “You—you’re visiting your grandmother, you said. Does she live in Ford St. Mary?”
    â€œYes, sir. You’re Mr. Colstone, sir, aren’t you?”
    â€œYes. I don’t know anyone in the village yet—I only came to-day. I expect I shall meet your grandmother. What is her name?”
    â€œMrs. Bowyer. And now I’ll be getting back, sir.”
    What was she driving at? He suspected a convention of some sort.
    â€œYes—rather.”
    The sun-bonnet hid the face rather suddenly. He felt a most uncommon ass. The girl stopped dead and spoke without looking at him:
    â€œI’ll be getting along by myself, sir. Folks’ll talk if you walk with me, and Gran’ll be in a way.”
    â€œLook here,” said Anthony, “that’s all right. But there was a man in the hedge just now, up at the top of the field where the Stones are. I didn’t like the look of him. That’s why I thought I had better walk with you.”
    There was a quick lift of the blue sun-bonnet.
    â€œA man?”
    â€œIn the hedge—staring at me.”
    â€œWhat sort of a man?” A complete change had taken place in her manner; she spoke only just above her breath, yet with a certain force that pressed for an answer.
    He found himself speaking as if to someone whom he knew well.
    â€œAwfully odd sort of fellow. I couldn’t make out what he was up to.”
    â€œWhat was he like?”
    This wasn’t the embarrassed village girl he had been walking with. He looked at her in astonishment. He had thought her pretty, and gauche. She was self-possessed enough now, and it wouldn’t have occurred to him to call her pretty; the word didn’t seem to have anything to do with her. It suggests something commonplace, and there was nothing commonplace here. The lovely eyes looked out of an almost colourless face; the lips took an odd irregular curve.
    He said, “Oh—queer—very pale—black hair and staring eyes. He looked as if he’d like to do me in.” He broke off with a short laugh. “That’s nonsense of course. But I thought I’d better see you across the fields.”
    She looked away. He caught her profile. Her nose had a sort of ripple in it—rather nice. She walked on in silence to the edge of the field. Then she turned with downcast eyes and fingers catching at her dress.
    â€œAnd now I’ll be getting along, thank you kindly all the same, sir.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    Anthony went back to Stonegate across the remaining field and in at a door which took him through a brick wall into the vegetable garden. He did not, therefore, see Mrs. Bowyer’s granddaughter come down the village street and enter the cottage immediately opposite his own front gate. It was the oldest house in the village, and old Susan Bowyer was the oldest inhabitant.
    The front door opened straight into the living-room. It was empty. The girl in the blue dress went