"No, I didn't. What do you mean? Oh, mon Dieu!" and she started down the
road at a run, with Peter lumbering after her and the neighbours in a
buzzing tail behind.
The cold douche had cooled Peter's hot head, the running quickened his
blood and his thoughts, a sudden grim fear braced his brain to quite
unusual activity.
As he ran he recalled the events of the night before; their meeting with
Gard and Nance; Tom's scurrilous insults.
If Tom and Gard had met again--Gard would be sure to see Nance home. Had
he met Tom on his way back? And if so--if so--and ill had come to
Tom--why, Gard might get the blame. And--and--in short, though by
zig-zag jerks as he ran--if Gard were out of the way for good and all,
Nance's thoughts might turn to one nearer home. He would be sorry if ill
had come to Tom, of course. But if Gard could be got rid of he would be
most uncommonly glad.
And as he panted after Julie, head down with the burden of much
thinking, just before he reached the sunk way to the Coupee, his eye
lighted on something in the road that caused him to stop and bend--a
button with a scrap of blue cloth attached.
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