"Yes. But I don't know why it should be. I drive about a good deal."
"And I walk about a good deal, and yet this is the first time—"
"Can't you fasten it?"
"Yes; now it's all right." I stood partly in front of the horse, with my hand on the shaft. She gathered up the lines.
"Mrs. Estell, I hope you are not offended at me."
She laughed with music though not with mirth, and then her face grew serious as she said: "Of course not, Mr. Belford."
Where was the freedom, the outbreak of energy she had shown in the opera house; where was the look of frankness? All now was reserve, a cool and sacred respect for the law that held her tied with a frost-covered rope. I did not presume that she loved me, but I knew that she hated him.
"Have you buckled the strap?"
"Yes, madam."
"Thank you."