In the clear silver glare he could not expect to escape recognition, and he was certain to be addressed and questioned as to whether he had been at Bindon, whether there were not grand 'goings-on' there; and if he said he had not been one of Mrs. Jose's guests, then he would be questioned as to where he had been, and why he was returning that way. In the humour in which he was, Jack shrank from the ordeal of undergoing so close a catechism. He was disinclined for conversation. Consequently, instead of pursuing his course, he turned back, resolved to repass Bindon, and take the way above the house that led down the shallow combe running parallel with the Axmouth Valley, and which would lead him to a point somewhat nearer the mouth of the river, but equally convenient for the ferry. It was true that by this means he was describing the letter C, but this mattered not. Time was to him of no object, and his limbs were insensible to fatigue. Young couples loitered about outside Bindon in sufficient amorous warmth not to regard December cold, and Jack avoided them by keeping well up the hill slope and under the trees, and by this means regained the road above the house. The road, however, at once dwindled to a path. The downs have of late years been enclosed, and made to grow turnips instead of heather and gorse. It was not so then, consequently the path to the common was not required for wagons and carts, and was weedy and unconsidered. It was closed against the down by fir-poles run across the gap. There was a thorn-tree here that threw a shadow over the rails. The leaves had been shed, but so dense was the tangle of interlacing boughs and twigs and spines that the shadow was more bewildering and blurring than if it had been a blot. Jack came upon the extemporised gate abruptly and unexpectedly. He was not thinking of the barrier. His mind was occupied with other matters. He would have run against the larch-poles, had not some one who leaned against them turned sharply at his tread, confronted him and asked what he was about. He started back, in surprise, but recovered himself instantly, and said, 'Who are you blocking the way? This is no toll-gate.' 'What are you about, running after me?' 'I――I run after you? Let me know who you are, who supposes such nonsense?' He saw next moment, for she who had spoken stepped forward into the blaze of silver light. 'Do not come near,' said she. It was Winefred. 'I have plucked a branch of thorn from the tree, and will strike you in the face if you venture.' 'There is no need for a thorn branch when you have a needle in your mouth.' 'Why have you followed me?' 'I did not know that you had left the barn.' 'That is false. You have been watching me.' 'I have been to the Axmouth gate, but I changed my mind and came back.' 'You have been watching me. I saw you. What right have you to stare me out of countenance?' 'A cat may look at a Queen, and a poor lad like me may look at a clawed cat, I reckon.'