“Like to see the horses?” asked Coventry, and Brett assenting very willingly, they made a tour of the stables.
“That’s a nice little mare,” remarked Forrester, pausing by the stall of a slim chestnut thoroughbred, who immediately thrust her head forward and nosed against his shoulder.
“Yes. And knows her job in the hunting field, too. I’m going to offer her to Miss Lovell for the season.”
The puppy Brett was carrying in the crook of his arm uttered a plaintive squeak as the breath was abruptly jerked out of his fat little body by the sudden pressure of the arm in question.
“An offer that won’t be rejected, I imagine,” replied Brett. He accompanied his host out of the stables, and the two men turned towards the house. “Miss Lovell’s quite a good horsewoman—and a very charming young person into the bargain.”
“Very charming,” agreed Coventry shortly. The idea of discussing Ann with any one, above all with Brett Forrester, was utterly distasteful to him.
“A somewhat flighty young monkey, though,” pursued Brett pensively. “It’s that touch of red in her hair that does it, I suppose.” He laughed indulgently.
Coventry making no reply, he continued conversationally:
“You never inquired into her past history, I suppose, when you engaged her brother as your agent?”
Inwardly Coventry anathematised the promise he had given Ann to keep their engagement secret for the present. It sealed his lips against the innuendo contained in Forrester’s speech.