She replied: ‘We have walked the distance, my lord.’
Her smile was the braced one of an untired stepper.
‘A cold wind for you.’
‘We walked fast.’
She compelled him to take her in the plural, though he addressed her separately, but her tones had their music.
‘Your brother, Captain Kirby-Levellier, I believe?’
‘My brother is not of the army now, my lord.’
She waved her hand for Madge to conduct donkey and baby to the house. He noticed. He was unruffled.
The form of amenity expected from her, in relation to her brother, was not exhibited. She might perhaps be feeling herself awkward at introductions, and had to be excused.
‘I beg,’ he said, and motioned to Chillon the way of welcome into the park, saw the fixed figure, and passed over the unspoken refusal, with a remark to Mr. Wythan: ‘At Barlings, I presume?’