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was a slight uplifting of her eyebrows which might have meant most anything disagreeable. "I am sorry. Good-morning."
"Good-morning," said Prudence, pleasantly, without looking around at him. He had taken a dozen steps up the slope when she called to him.
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"Mr. Fallon."
"Miss Lynde?"
"There is something I want to say. Would you mind waiting just a moment?"
"Not at all," he murmured. She laid down her brush and turned toward him. Her face held no promise of pardon.
"I want to ask you if you won't please stop—coming here."
"Certainly," he answered, coldly. "I regret that my presence is so obnoxious."
