the high-road from Sicaster he had turned into a bye-lane through the fields, and over its ruts and uneven surface he drove swiftly forward, occasionally urging the horse on with blows of the whip. The trap rocked from side to side, and Verrell was obliged to hold on to keep his seat, but Hepworth paid no heed. A long, trailing branch from an overhanging tree caught his face and tore the skin and drew blood, but he gave no sign. Coming at last to a turn in the lane which brought them within sight of the woods beyond which lay the farmstead, he drew rein, and brought the sweating horse to a walking pace.
"What are your plans?" he said curtly.
"Plans?"
"You've some notion of what you're going to do, I suppose," said Hepworth. "You didn't come here for nothing."
"I came to find my wife," answered Verrell.
"Well, now you know where she is, what are you going to do? You'll go away with her, I expect."
