“For lohd, sar, I done dat dis day yesserday.”
“Never mind, then,” said Peter. “Tell Curzon to ring me up a hansom.”
When Peter rode into the park he did not vacillate. He put his horse at a sharp canter, and started round the path. But he had not ridden far when he suddenly checked his horse, and reined him up with a couple of riders. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said frankly. Peter had not ceased to be straightforward.
“Hello! This is nice,” said Watts.
“Don’t you think it’s about time?” said Leonore. Leonore had her own opinion of what friendship consisted. She was not angry with Peter—not at all. But she did not look at him.
Peter had drawn his horse up to the side on which Leonore was riding. “That is just what I thought,” he said deliberately, “and that’s why I’m here now.”
“How long ago did that occur to you, please?” said Leonore, with dignity.
“About the time it occurred to me that you might ride here regularly afternoons.”
“Don’t you?” Leonore was mollifying.
“No. I like the early morning, when there are fewer people.”