"Oh, much," she said, her eyebrows raised above a faint smile. "You see, then I should have been upset properly."
As she spoke, she laid a hand on my shoulder, to steady herself, while she peered into the mirror above my head. I looked round and up at the smiling face, six inches away.
"Then I wish I had," said I. One hand was settling her plumed hat. Without looking down, she set the other firmly upon my chin, and turned my face round and away.
"Open the door and hand me out nicely," she said.
I rose and put on my hat.
"Do you ever play the piano?" I said suddenly.
"Why?"
"I was thinking of the fingers. You have such an exquisite touch."
The evident pleasure the chestnut mare evinced at her mistress's arrival was a real tribute to personality. Also the vet's morning report was more satisfactory. It seemed that Dear One was mending. Greatly comforted, my lady let me give her lunch at the Duck Inn. Afterwards—there being no train till four o'clock—she came with me to choose a spaniel pup. It was to purchase him that I had started for Friars Rory that sunshiny day.
"What shall you call him?" she said, as we made our way to the kennels. "I really don't know," said I. "What about Seal-skin? Must be something in memory of to-day."