“Bonjour, messieurs,” she said politely and then to Lucy,
“Come along, dearest, it’s time for us to go home. As the horses have to go slowly down the hill, it will take some time.”
“This is a very pretty young lady,” one of the Frenchmen said. “I think she is the daughter of the very rich Sir Renton, is she not?”
“Yes, Sir Wolfe Renton!” Iola corrected him.
Pulling Lucy with her she started down the rough path that led to where they had left the carriage in the centre of the small village below them.
As they went, Lucy chattering about her windmill, she was aware that the two men were following them.
She did not know why, but she felt a little uncomfortable that they should be doing so and thought perhaps that she should not have admitted that Lucy was Sir Wolfe’s daughter.
But she
