She made her hasty
thanks to Miss Sessions and hurried in. Gray Stoddard's horse was
standing at the hitching post in front, and Gray met her at the head of
the steps.
Stoddard looked particularly himself in riding dress. Its more
unconventional lines suited him well; the dust-brown Norfolk, the
leathern puttees, gave an adventurous turn to the expression of a
personality which was only so on the mental side. He always rode
bareheaded, and the brown hair, which he wore a little longer than other
men's, was tossed from its masculine primness to certain hyacinthine
lines which were becoming. Just now his clear brown eyes were luminous
with feeling. He put out a swift, detaining hand and caught hers, laying
sympathetic fingers over the clasp and retaining it as he spoke.
"I'm so relieved that you've come at last," he said. "We need somebody
of intelligence here. I just happened to come past a few minutes after
the accident. Don't be frightened; your uncle came down to see you, and
got a fall somehow. He's hurt pretty badly, I'm afraid, and these people
are refusing to have him taken to the hospital."
On the one side Himes and Buckheath drew back and regarded this scene
with angry derision. In the carriage below Lydia Sessions, who could
hear nothing that was said, stared incredulously, and moved as though to
get down and join Johnnie.
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