Roland did not reply at once. She eyed him furtively, and then laughed.
'I do not understand your mirth,' said he coldly.
'Nor I your gloom, Roland dear; but then you are far from well.'
He sighed, as if deprecating her manner.
'Am I to be scolded, like a naughty child?' she asked.
'You seem to feel that you deserve it.'
'But I won't be scolded—and for what?'
'Acting as you ought not to do.'
'How?'
'Riding to see the hounds throw off, without my knowledge, and escorted only by an old groom, whose place another has taken more than once.'