Sue slipped the locket inside her shirtwaist.
“Say yes, Miss Unger,” urged Phil.
“I’m fearfully sorry—I really can’t go this afternoon.” Genevieve gave a quick glance past Phil to the man behind him—Valentine. “I have an engagement.”
At that, Phil fell back, his face suddenly grave, lifted a hand in a gay salute and strode away.
But throughout the remainder of the game he played harder than ever, and with such coolness, resource and accuracy that there was frequent hand-clapping from the line of vehicles, and even Hadbury parasols were waved from the ladies’ stand; while to one side, where the extra ponies waited, groom leaned to groom, commenting excitedly. But when the match was done, with the Brampton team victors, he disappeared, and Sue did not see him again. She got away as soon as she could manage it, and turned the bays homeward at top speed.
“Don’t you think Mr. Valentine handsome?” asked Genevieve, as they rolled along. “Soldierly, I think.”
“Bob doesn’t believe the man has ever been in the army,” said Sue. “And he says Mr. Valentine owes everyone in Brampton.”
Genevieve opened her eyes. “Why, Sue!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never heard you repeat things against anyone before. Mr. Valentine has plenty of money. And shopkeepers always gossip to curry favor with servants.”
“And Bob says he gambles,” persisted Sue. “I like you too well to see him claim any of your attention.”
“Don’t all men gamble?” demanded Genevieve.