Below them the long roofs of Putnam's showed, weathered among the sycamores.
As the girl passed into the Paddock Close he was riding at her side again.
The Paddock Close was a vast enclosure, fenced off from the Downs, an ideal nursery and galloping ground for young stock.
There was hill and valley; here and there a group of trees for shade in the dog-days; a great sheltered bottom fringed by a wood that ran out into the Close like a peninsula; and the wall of the Downs to give protection from the east.
As they walked together down the hill, Boy was looking about her.
"Where's the mare?" she asked.
They were the first words she had spoken.
"Which mare?" asked Silver
"Four Pound."
He glanced round. The young stock were standing lazily under the trees, swishing their tails, and stamping off the flies. But the old mare had forsaken her usual haunt.