“There was an excellent reason,” he said curtly. “They weren’t at home. What’s Bateman racing for?—oh, a new stick. I say, Lucas got that goal cleverly! I wonder what he’d take for his pony.”
Claudia’s eyes sparkled. “I wish, oh, how I wish women could play polo!”
“Good heavens! I’m thankful they don’t attempt it!”
She turned upon him with a laughing retort, but something in his face checked her. She said the next moment, “There is Miss Arbuthnot.”
Fenwick looked without making a remark, and exerted himself for Claudia’s entertainment. Before long, however, he left her, strolling over to the carriage where Helen sat. She gave him the slightest of greetings, but, undismayed, he folded his arms on the side of the carriage, and talked in a low voice.
“I have been to see you.”
“How judicious of you to choose such an admirably safe hour for visits!”
“Is that all you have to say after what I’ve been going through? Weeks on a sick bed!”
She looked at him between half-shut eyes.
“Haven’t I seen you since? Oh, don’t expect me to pity you. I believe your accident was simply an ingenious plant, to get what you had set your mind upon. By the way, let me offer my congratulations.”