"What!"
A dull flush settled under his prominent cheek-bones: he looked straight ahead of him between his horse's ears as he rode, sitting his saddle like the perfect horseman he was, although his mount felt the savage pain of a sudden and reasonless spurring and the wicked curb scarcely controlled him.
Strelsa set her lips, not looking at either horse or man on her right, nor even noticing her own mare who was cutting up in sympathy with the outraged hunter at her withers.
"Langly?"
"Yes?"
"Has it ever occurred to you how painful such scandalous rumours must be for Mrs. Ledwith?"
"Can I help them?"
Strelsa said, thoughtfully: "What a horrible thing for a woman! It was generous of your aunt to show people what she thought of such cruel stories."
"Do you think," he said sneeringly, "that my excellent aunt was inspired by any such motive? You might as well know—if you don't know already—" and his pale eyes rested a moment on the girl beside him—"that my aunt is visiting Mrs. Ledwith solely to embarrass me!"
"How could it embarrass you?"