As she came close, a figure appeared in the doorway. Before she could be
frightened by the realisation that it was not Jarvis's slender young
frame which confronted her, Jeff accosted her in the mildest tones
imaginable:
"It's only Jefferson Birch. Don't be scared. Fine night, isn't it?"
"Y-yes," stammered Lucy, in dismay. She stood still, her skirts gathered
close, as if she were about to run.
"Don't go. Out for a stroll? So am I," said Jeff, pleasantly, as if
midnight promenades were the accustomed thing at "The Banks." "Won't you
sit down?"
There were seats outside the summer-house as well as within, and he
motioned toward one of them.
"No, thank you. I think I'll go back," said Lucy, and her voice
trembled.
"Why, you've only just come! Why not stay a while and have a visit with
me? You must have been intending to stay."
"Oh, no!" said Lucy, eagerly, and stopped short, listening. What if
George Jarvis should come round the corner at any moment? She must get
Jeff away with her. "Won't you walk along up to the house with me? I
only came down to see if I'd left something in the summer-house.
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