, springing into his cart, wrenched his mare round, circled the
farmers' gigs, and, sitting forward, drove off at a furious pace. His
groom, running at full speed, clung to the cart and leaped on to the
step behind. Lord Quarryman's wagonette backed itself into the place
left vacant. And the mistake of Providence was rectified.
"Cracked chap, that fellow Bellew. D'you see anything of him?"
Mr. Pendyce answered:
"No; and I want to see less. I wish he'd take himself off!"
His lordship smiled.
"A huntin' country seems to breed fellows like that; there's always
one of 'em to every pack of hounds. Where's his wife now? Good-lookin'
woman; rather warm member, eh?"
It seemed to Mr. Pendyce that Lord Quarryman's eyes searched his own
with a knowing look, and muttering "God knows!" he vanished into his
brougham.
Lord Quarryman looked kindly at his horses.
He was not a man who reflected on the whys, the wherefores, the
becauses, of this life. The good God had made him Lord Quarryman, had
made his eldest son Lord Quantock; the good God had made the Gaddesdon
hounds--it was enough!
When Mr. Pendyce reached home he went to his dressing-room. In a corner
by the bath the spaniel John lay surrounded by an assortment of his
master's slippers, for it was thus alone that he could soothe in measure
the bitterness of separation. His dark brown eye was fixed upon the
door, and round it gleamed a crescent moon of white. He came to the
Squire fluttering his tail, with a slipper in his mouth, and his eye
said plainly: 'Oh, master, where have you been? Why have you been so
long? I have been expecting you ever since half-past ten this morning!'
Mr. Pendyce's heart opened a moment and closed again. He said "John!"
and began to dress for dinner.
Mrs. Pendyce found him tying his white tie. She had plucked the first
rosebud from her garden; she had plucked it because she felt sorry
for him, and because of the excuse it would give her to go to his
dressing-room at once.
"I've brought you a buttonhole, Horace. Did you see him?"
"No."
Of all answers this was the one she dreaded most. She had not believed
that anything would come of an interview; she had trembled all day long
at the thought of their meeting; but now that they had not met she knew
by the sinking in her heart that anything was better than uncertainty.
She waited as long as she could, then burst out:
"Tell me something, Horace!"
Mr. Pendyce gave her an a
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