t out her hands, draw
his head down, press her lips to his, and say: "Now you know!" His head
had gone round, still went round, thinking of it! That was all. A little
matter--except that, in an hour, he would be meeting the eyes of one
he loved much more. And yet--the poison was in his blood; a kiss so cut
short--by what--what counter impulse?--leaving him gazing at her without
a sound, inhaling that scent of hers--something like a pine wood's
scent, only sweeter, while she gathered up her gloves, fastened her
furs, as if it had been he, not she, who had snatched that kiss. But her
hand had pressed his arm against her as they went down the stairs. And
getting into her cab at the Temple Station, she had looked back at
him with a little half-mocking smile of challenge and comradeship and
promise. The link would be hard to break--even if he wanted to. And yet
nothing would come of it! Heavens, no! He had never thought! Marriage!
Impossible! Anything else--even more impossible! When he got back to
his chambers, he had found in the box the letter, which her telegram had
repeated, readdressed by Gyp from the Red House. And a faint uneasiness
at its having gone down there passed through him. He spent a restless
evening at the club, playing cards and losing; sat up late in his
chambers over a case; had a hard morning's work, and only now that he
was nearing Gyp, realized how utterly he had lost the straightforward
simplicity of things.

When he reached the house and found that she had gone out riding alone,
his uneasiness increased. Why had she not waited as usual for him to
ride with her? And he paced up and down the garden, where the wind
was melancholy in the boughs of the walnut-tree that had lost all its
leaves. Little Gyp was out for her walk, and only poor old Ossy kept him
company. Had she not expected him by the usual train? He would go and
try to find out. He changed and went to the stables. Old Pettance was
sitting on a corn-bin, examining an aged Ruff's Guide, which contained
records of his long-past glory, scored under by a pencil: "June
Stakes: Agility. E. Pettance 3rd." "Tidport Selling H'Cap: Dorothea, E.
Pettance, o." "Salisbury Cup: Also ran Plum Pudding, E. Pettance," with
other triumphs. He got up, saying:

"Good-afternoon, sir; windy afternoon, sir. The mistress 'as been gone
out over two hours, sir. She wouldn't take me with 'er."

"Hurry up, then, and saddle Hotspur."

"Yes, sir; very good, sir."

O