"
"Queer notions you have of a fair understanding," retorted Mr. Kavanagh.
"You'd call it a fair understanding, would you, to come here and tell me
to get off my own doorstep because you claimed the place?"
"I mean that no man has the right to refuse happiness to his own or to
others simply to curry his own personal spite. That's all, sir."
He whirled his horse and galloped away. He halted at the church, threw
the reins over the animal's head and went and sat on the steps. He
wanted to think. He wanted to calm himself. He hoped that the place
would console him with its memories, afford him some hope, some
suggestion.
He wondered now why he had allowed anything to delay that search. Yet he
understood vaguely that she had hidden herself from him by her own
choice. She had fled with wounded heart. He had not dared to seek her
too eagerly.
The red eyes of Kavanagh's house mocked him.
Suddenly he started up. A figure, flitting and wraith-like, was coming
toward him from those eyes. It was running. He could hear the swift
patter of feet.
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