"
Mabyn came out, her bright young face full of pleasure.
"How do you do, Mabyn?" he said coldly, and without offering to shake
hands.
"Won't you come in for a minute?" she said, rather surprised.
"No, thank you. Don't you stay out in the cold: you've got nothing
round your neck."
Mabyn went away without saying a word, but thinking that the coolness
of the air was much less apparent than that of his manner and speech.
Being at length left to himself, he turned his attention to the
horses before him, and eventually, to pass the time, took out his
pocket-handkerchief and began to polish the silver on the handle of
the whip. He was disturbed in this peaceful occupation by a very
timid voice, which said, "Mr. Trelyon." He turned round and found that
Wenna's wistful face was looking up to him, with a look in it
partly of friendly gladness and partly of anxiety and entreaty. "Mr.
Trelyon," she said, with her eyes cast down, "I think you are offended
with me. I am very sorry: I beg your forgiveness."
The reins were fastened up in a minute, and he was down in the road
beside her. "Now look here, Wenna," he said. "What could you mean by
treating me so unfairly? I don't mean in being vexed with me, but in
shunting me off, as it were, instead of having it out at once. I don't
think it was fair."
"I am very sorry," she said. "I think I was very wrong, but you don't
know what a girl feels about such things.
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