'That is all.'
'It is unfinished.'
'Cannot you do anything without knowing why?'
'Unbusinesslike. But I'll do my best.'
'Well,'—said Hazel, 'I told Mr. Falkirk.—Of course I like to go fast, for its own sake,—and then if I ever had to ride for my life!'—
It was spoken so demurely that only her cheeks betrayed her.
Over their treason the girl grew impatient.
'I just want a fast horse. Don't you know what that means, without explanation?'
'Why no,' said he, probably enjoying his advantage though he held it after his usual undemonstrative fashion. Excepting that his eyes took a further advantage which none others ever did. No flattery in them, nor conventional deference, and nothing like Dr. Maryland's benign regard, or Mr. Falkirk's watchful one. Those eyes went down into hers with a sort of grave taking possession, or holding it; something more than benignity, and coming much nearer than watchfulness. Rollo's manner had often an indefinable tinge of the same expression. 'There are so many sorts of fast horses,' he went on. 'Do you want to run for your life? or canter? or trot?'
'Trot in ordinary—run upon occasion.'
'Is trotting your favourite gait?'