“Good-day,” said Peter. Watts passed out, closing the door.
Peter sat down at his desk, doing nothing, for nearly an hour. How long he would have sat will never be known, if his brown study had not been ended by Rivington’s entrance. “The Appeals have just handed down their decision in the Henley case. We win.”
“I thought we should,” said Peter mechanically.
“Why, Peter! What’s the matter with you? You look as seedy as—”
“As I feel,” said Peter. “I’m going to stop work and take a ride, to see if I can’t knock some of my dulness out of me.” Within an hour he was at the Riding Club.
“Hello,” said the stable man. “Twice in one day! You’re not often here at this hour, sir. Which horse will you have?”
“Give me whichever has the most life in him.”
“It’s Mutineer has the devil in him always, sir. Though it’s not yourself need fear any horse. Only look out for the ice.”
Peter rode into the Park in ten minutes. He met Lispenard at the first turn.
“Hello! It’s not often you are here at this hour.” Lispenard reined his horse up alongside.