"I couldn't. Think of Mrs. Biggs!"
"Not here. Up in the wood. But never mind. Come and see me saddle the little mare."
She liked the smell of the long, dim stable, the sound of the horses moving in their stalls, the regular crunching as they ate their hay. Years ago, she had been in this place with John and Rupert and she had forgotten nothing. There were the corn-bins under the windows and the pieces of old harness still hanging on big nails; above, there was the loft that looked as vast as ever in the shadowy gloom, and again it invited her ascent by the iron steps between the stalls.
From the harness-room Halkett fetched a saddle, and as he put it on the mare's back, he said, "Come and say how d'you do to her."
"It's Daisy. She'll go fast. Isn't she beautiful! She's rubbing her nose on me. I wish I could ride her."
"She might let you—for half a minute. Charlie's the boy for you. Come and see what's in the harness-room."
"Not now. There isn't time."
"Wait for me then." There was pleading in his voice. "Wait in the wood. I've something to show you. Will you do that for me?"
He was standing close to her, and she did not look up. "I ought to go back, but I don't want to. I don't like ill people. They sicken me."
"Don't go, then."