There was a ring of sadness in the tone in which those words were uttered, which seemed to give Chris hope. Claude could not be happy to speak like that.
He crept to the window, and, from behind the curtain, watched till he could see the white flannel dress with its blue braiding no more.
“If I were only rich,” thought Chris; and then he gave an angry stamp on the floor as he heard a quick pace, and saw Glyddyr pass, evidently hurrying on to overtake the two girls, who must have parted from Gartram lower down.
Half mad with jealousy, he made for the door, but only to stop with his fingers upon the handle, as he felt how foolish any such step would be, and, going back to his chair, he took up his book again, and opened it, and there before him the words seemed to start out from the page.
“Back the Prince’s Filly.”
He closed the book with an angry snap.
“Look here,” he said to himself, “am I going to be ill, and is all this the beginning of a fit of delirium?”
He laughed the next instant, and then, as if obeying the strange impulse within him, he crossed the room and rang the bell.
“Have you taken away the newspaper that was here, Mrs Sarson?” he said sharply.
The pleasant face before him coloured up.