Perhaps Mr. Rollo had a flashing question cross his mind, whether he had not missed something through lack of a hunter's patience the other night; but he was too much of a hunter to do anything but make the best of circumstances. He shook hands in precisely his usual manner; remarking that Mr. Falkirk had not had a ride of four miles; took his breakfast like a man who had; and only towards the close of breakfast suddenly turned to his hostess and asked, 'How does Jeannie Deans behave?'
Apparently Hazel's thoughts had not been held fast by the politics under discussion, for she had gone into a deep grave meditation.
'Jeannie Deans?' she said, with her face flushing all up again. 'Why—very well. The last time I rode her.'
'When was that?'
'Monday, I think, was the day of the week; but I suppose she would have behaved just as well if it had been Tuesday.'
'Then probably she would have no objection to Wednesday?'
'Other things being comfortable,' said Wych Hazel, still keeping her eyes to herself.
'Do you mean, that you and she are in such sympathy, that if she does not behave well you know the reason?'
'I never sympathize with anybody's ill-behaviour but my own,' said Hazel, 'if that is what you mean.'
'I meant,' said Rollo with perfect gravity, 'that perhaps she sympathized with yours?'