"Will," she said, as they drove on, "I believe Mr. Bates is really
fond of you."
Dale gave a snort; and then after a long pause spoke with strong
emphasis.
"I'll tell you, Mavis, what Mr. Bates is. He's a _good_ man, every bit
and crumb of him. There's no one between the downs and the sea that I
feel the same respect for that I do for that old gentleman."
"Yes, Will, I know you've always praised him."
"And since you make the remark, I'll admit its truth. I do verily
believe that Mr. Bates _is_ fond of me." Then he laughed bitterly.
"I'm not aware of any one else I could say it of."
"Oh, Will--there's lots are fond of you."
"No--none. That was one small part of my lesson last month in London.
I got that tip, straight, at the G.P.O."
"Will!"
They were driving now through the woods, and Mavis, glancing from time
to time at her husband's face, saw that it had become fearfully
somber. She guessed that this indicated an unfortunate turn of
thought, and she talked incessantly in the hope of rendering such
thought difficult, if not impossible.
After crossing the bridge over the stream that runs serpentining
through the Upper Hadleigh Wood on its way to join the Rod River, they
were soon at the Abbey Cross Roads.
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