"Well, I'll come," says Rylton.
"Really!" cries Tita; her eyes grow very bright. "You mean it?"
"Certainly I do. It is my place, you know, to see that you don't overdo it."
"Oh, how delightful!" says she, clasping her hands. "I hate riding alone. We'll go right over the downs, and back of Scart Hill, and so home. Come on—come on," running out of the room; "don't be a minute dressing."
CHAPTER XVI.
HOW A DULL MORNING GIVES BIRTH TO A STRANGE AFTERNOON. AND HOW RYLTON'S EYES ARE WIDENED BY A FRIEND.
"Good old day!" says Mrs. Chichester disgustedly. She is sitting near the window in the small drawing-room at Oakdean, watching the raindrops race each other down the panes.
"What's the matter with it?" asks Mr. Gower, who is standing beside her, much to the annoyance of Captain Marryatt, who is anxious to engage her for some waltzes at the dance old Lady Warbeck is giving in the near future.
"What isn't the matter with it?" asks Mrs. Chichester, turning her thin shoulders, that always have some queer sort of fascination in them, on Gower. She gives him a glance out of her blue-green eyes. She is enjoying herself immensely, in spite of the day, being quite alive to the fact that Captain Marryatt is growing desperate, and that old Miss Gower, whom Tita has insisted on asking to her house party, is thinking dark things of her from the ottoman over there.
"What's it good for, any way?"