"Either Lacey's shirked the interview—or it's been a very long one," I remarked, as the clock over the stables struck half-past ten. "Poor Dormer's home by now—to solitude!"
"Oh, bother Mr. Dormer and his solitude! Listen, do you hear hoofs?"
"I can't say I do," I rejoined, lighting my pipe.
"How you can smoke!" she exclaimed scornfully. Really I could not do anything else—in view of the tension.
A voice came from above our heads: "Jenny, are there any signs?"
"Not yet, dear," called Jenny, and waved her arms despairingly. "Ah!" She held up her hand and rose quickly to her feet. Now we heard the distant sound of hoofs. "I wonder if he's written to me or to her!" She started walking toward the drive.
"To you, I'll be bound!" I answered as I followed.
In a few moments the groom rode up. Jenny was waiting for him, took the letter from him, and opened it.
"No answer," she said. "Thank you. You'll ask them to give you a glass of beer, won't you?"
The man thanked her, touched his hat, and rode off to the servants' quarters.