"I think he's perfectly delightful," she said. "I'm afraid I prefer mongrels to better dogs."
"Do you really?" said Roddy, looking kindly at her. "'Pon my word, Miss Rand, I must show you my little lot. I don't think you'll have much use for that animal there afterwards."
At last the girl in the riding-habit and the other woman and the young man noisily departed.
Rachel took Lizzie upstairs. "Are you sure," she said, "you'd like to come down to dinner? Wouldn't you rather, to-night, go early to bed and have it there?"
"No, thank you, Lady Seddon." Lizzie looked about the room. "This is all splendid, thank you. I'm not a bit tired."
"I'm so glad you've come," said Rachel, searching for Lizzie's eyes. But Lizzie had turned away.
At last she was alone.
Her room was splendid—so wide, and high, and such a fire!
She flung up her window. There the Downs were, black, huge before her; the rain came down hissing from the sky and a smell of wet earth and grass stole up to her.
"That's the woman ..." she said again to herself—"What shall we say to one another?"