Later in the morning, he saw Constance wheeling forth her bicycle. He ran, and gained her side before she had mounted.
"As you are going out, why shouldn't we have a walk together? Give up your ride this morning."
"I'm very sorry I can't," Constance answered, pleasantly. "The exercise is necessary for me."
"But just this once—"
"Impossible! The morning is too fine and the roads too good."
She sprang into the saddle, and was off—much to Dyce's mortification. He had not dreamt that she could refuse his request. And he had meant to talk with such generous confidence, such true comradeship; it was even his intention to tell Constance that he looked more for her sympathy and aid than for that of anyone else. Surely this would have been very gratifying to her; she could not but have thanked him with real feeling.
At luncheon, Miss Bride was obviously unrepentant. One would have said that it amused her to notice the slight coldness which Lashmar put into his manner towards her. She had never seemed in better spirits.
In the afternoon Dyce was summoned to a private interview with Lady Ogram. It took place in an upstairs room he had not yet entered. His hostess sat before a wood-fire (though the day was warm) and her face now and then had a look of suffering, but she spoke cheerfully, and in a tone of much kindness.
"Well, have you enjoyed your stay with me?—You must come down again presently; but, in the meantime, you'll be busy. Go and see Mrs. Toplady, and get to know all the useful people you can. We shall be working here for you, of course. Miss Bride will keep you posted about everything."
The dark eyes, at this moment pain-troubled, were reading his countenance.