The Hound of the Baskervilles
was beautifully flushed with her exertions, and she held her hand to her side.
“I have run all the way in order to cut you off, Dr. Watson,” said she. “I had not even time to put on my hat. I must not stop, or my brother may miss me. I wanted to say to you how sorry I am about the stupid mistake I made in thinking that you were Sir Henry. Please forget the words I said, which have no application whatever to you.”
“But I can’t forget them, Miss Stapleton,” said I. “I am Sir Henry’s friend, and his welfare is a very close concern of mine. Tell me why it was that you were so eager that Sir Henry should return to London.”
“A woman’s whim, Dr. Watson. When you know me better you will understand that I cannot always give reasons for what I say or do.”
“No, no. I remember the thrill in your voice. I remember the look in your eyes. Please, please, be frank with me, Miss
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