But Phil barely glanced at her as she came out to her horse. His eyes, blue like her own, had a far-away expression in them, and he answered her greeting absent-mindedly. When he had put her up and mounted his own pony he rode away beside her at a walk, his look fixed ahead of him eagerly but unseeing; his lips parted in a faint smile. Behind them, at the prescribed distance, followed the red-cheeked, red-haired groom.
Sue said nothing, letting her companion have all his thoughts for himself. Every now and then she gave him a quick, inquiring glance.
When he broke silence at last he spoke musingly—almost as if to himself. “What a day to be at the dentist’s,” he said. “I hope he won’t hurt her.”
“Dentist’s?” inquired Sue. “Who’s gone?”
“Why—Miss Unger.” He coloured self-consciously.
“Oh, has she?” went on Sue, surprised. “Are you sure? I thought this was the date for that lawn fête at the Fanshaws’—Greenwich, you know—for the benefit of something or other. Genevieve telephoned me she’d promised to go and sell fudge.”
“But she went to town instead,”—this with finality.
At this point, Sue thought of Messrs. Hammond, Graves and St. Ives, and of the oncoming contest at Hadbury. “Did you play this morning?” she asked. “I suppose the team is getting splendidly drilled.”
“I suppose so,” he answered vaguely. He was looking far ahead once more.
“I think I’ll ask Genevieve to drive to Hadbury with me the day of the game,” resumed Sue.