Blanche Going raises her head and regards him fixedly. In the velvet softness of her dark eyes shines for an instant an expression that is half reproach, half passionate anger; only for an instant; then turning her glance on me, she meets my gaze full, and sneers unmistakably. I feel radiant, triumphant. At least I have it in my power to give her sting for sting.
"Thank you," I say to Sir Mark, with a beaming smile. "I shall feel quite safe and happy in my mind with you. At heart I believe I am a coward, so feel it pleasant to know there will be help at hand if the ponies prove refractory."
"You had better take a groom with you, Phyllis," says my husband, shortly.
"Oh, no, thank you. It will be quite unnecessary Sir Mark, I know, it as good as two or three grooms in a case of emergency."
"Nevertheless, I think you had better have a groom. Those ponies are generally skittish after an idleness. I shall tell Markharm to accompany you."
"Pray do not give yourself the trouble," I reply, obstinately: "I shall not need him. You do not think there is any cause for fear, do you, Sir Mark!"
"I think not. I think I am a match for your ponies at any moment," returns he, smiling.
"In my opinion grooms are a mistake in a small carriage" murmurs Lady Blanche, addressing the table generally. "There is something unpleasant in the fact that they are close behind one's back ready to hear and repeat every idle word one may chance to utter." Her smile as she says this is innocence itself.
"I fully agree with you," answer I, equitably; "though Sir Mark and I are above uttering anything idle."
Marmaduke frowns, and the conversation ends.