There were no bones broken, but the shock had been great. She lay very still and white against Pip's arm.
Richard closed his medicine case and rose. He stood looking down at her.
"Better, old lady?"
"Yes, Dicky."
He spoke a little awkwardly. "I'll ride down if you don't mind, and come back for you in Meade's car." His eyes did not meet hers.
As he plunged over the hill on his heavy old horse, her puzzled gaze followed him. Then she gave a queer little laugh. "Is he running away from me, Pip?"
"I told him you were—mine," the big man burst out.
"You told him? Oh, Pip, what did he say?"
"That this was not the time to talk about it."
She lay very still thinking it out. Then she turned on his arm. "Good old Pip," she said. He drew her up to him, and she said it again, with that queer little laugh, "Good old Pip, you're the best ever. And all this time I have been looking straight over your blessed old head at—Dicky."