While, after leaving Mrs. Gresham, he was hesitating which way to go and
was on the point of hailing a gardener to ask if Mrs. Dallow had been
seen, he noticed, as a spot of colour in an expanse of shrubbery, a
far-away parasol moving in the direction of the lake. He took his course
toward it across the park, and as the bearer of the parasol strolled
slowly it was not five minutes before he had joined her. He went to her
soundlessly, on the grass--he had been whistling at first, but as he got
nearer stopped--and it was not till he was at hand that she looked
round. He had watched her go as if she were turning things over in her
mind, while she brushed the smooth walks and the clean turf with her
dress, slowly made her parasol revolve on her shoulder and carried in
the other hand a book which he perceived to be a monthly review.
"I came out to get away," she said when he had begun to walk with her.
"Away from me?"
"Ah that's impossible." Then she added: "The day's so very nice."
"Lovely weather," Nick dropped. "You want to get away from Mrs. Gresham,
I suppose."