Like a man in a dream, or one obsessed by some purpose before which
all other things faded into nothingness, he went his way, the way
Ella had taken in her flight--through the wood, through the spinney
to the public foot-path, and then out on the road that led to
Bittermeads.
When he entered the garden there, he saw Ella sitting quietly on a
deck-chair close to her mother, quietly busy with some fancy work.
He could not believe it; he stood watching in bewilderment,
appalled and wondering, watching her white hands flashing busily
to and fro, hearing the soft murmur of her voice as now and then she
addressed some remark to her mother, who nodded drowsily in the
sunshine over a book open on her knees.
Ella was dressed all in white; she had flung aside her hat, and the
quiet breeze played in her fair hair, and stirred gently a stray
curl that had escaped across her broad low brow.
The picture was one of gentleness and peace and an innocence that
thought no wrong, and yet with his own eyes he had seen her not
an hour ago fleeing with hurried steps and fearful looks from the
spot where lay a murdered man.
Somewhat unsteadily, for he felt so little master of himself, it
was as though he had no longer even control of his own limbs, Dunn
stumbled forward, and Ella looked up and saw him, and saw also that
he was looking at her very strangely.
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