He was a coward -- and even a brave man might have been daunted by that terrible white face and those blazing eyes . He backed down the path . `` Shorry -- shorry , '' he muttered . `` Did n't know she was your girl -- shorry I butted in . Shentlemans never butt in -- shorry -- shir -- shorry . '' He kept repeating his ridiculous `` shorry '' until he was out of the grove . Then he turned and ran stumblingly across the field . Roger did not follow ; he went back to Isabel Temple 's grave . The girl was lying across it ; he thought she was unconscious . He stooped and picked her up -- she was light and small , but she was warm flesh and blood ; she clung uncertainly to him for a moment and he felt her breath on his face . He did not speak -- he was too sick at heart . She did not speak either . He did not think this strange until afterwards . He was incapable of thinking just then ; he was dazed , wretched , lost . Presently he became aware that she was timidly pulling his arm . It seemed that she wanted him to go with her -- she was evidently frightened of that brute -- he must take her to safety . And then -- She moved on down the little path and he followed . Out in the moonlit field he saw her clearly . With her drooping head , her flowing dark hair , her great brown eyes , she looked like the nymph of a wood-brook , a haunter of shadows , a creature sprung from the wild . But she was mortal maid , and he -- what a fool he had been !
Presently he would laugh XXXXX himself , when this dazed agony should clear away from his brain .
With across at for like of on that to until