But of all that their souls knew, their lips spoke no word.
"I've often thought about that run we had," said the man. "One doesn't get a gallop like that every day of one's life. Did you have many other good days?"
"I didn't go out again last season," said the woman.
"Really? How was that?"
"Oh, I went down to Devonshire with my sister."
"You didn't take Miracle?"
"No." It pleased her that he remembered Miracle's name. "By the way, I'm quite angry with you, Mr. Cavendish. Mr. Wilberforce told us on Sunday that you preferred golf to our society."
"Jimmy's a mischief-maker. Why isn't your sister here to-night, Mrs. Brunton?" Man-like, he wondered--now--why he had refused to call on her.
"Mollie's at a dance. I believe Mr. Wilberforce will be there too."
"Jimmy's a great dancer." Did she know, he speculated, about Jimmy and her sister? Probably. Women--according to Ronnie--always told one another that sort of thing.