So soon
as they passed he went some little way after them until, from the
bridge, he could see them stop at the door of the inn. Was it Mrs.
Rosewarne who came out of the glare, and with something like a cry of
delight caught her daughter in her arms? He watched the figures go
inside and the phaeton drive away up the hill; then, in the perfect
silence of the night, he turned and slowly made toward Basset Cottage.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
AN ANGRY INTERVIEW.
Next morning George Rosewarne was seated on the old oak bench in front
of the inn reading a newspaper. Happening to look up, he saw Mr.
Roscorla hurrying toward him over the bridge with no very pleasant
expression on his face. As he came nearer he saw that the man was
strangely excited. "I want to see your daughter alone," he said.
"You needn't speak as if I had tried to run away with her," Rosewarne
answered, with more good-nature than was his wont. "Well, go in-doors:
ask for her mother."
As Roscorla passed him there was a look in his eyes which rather
startled George Rosewarne.
"Is it possible," he asked himself, "that this elderly chap is really
badly in love with our Wenna?"
But another thought struck him.
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