"I know that old worn——. I daresay I would give great satisfaction to some people if I did! But … I can't help that."
Mabel is bending forward, hiding her face. A tear falls on her silk dress with a little dull flop. Young Saint Sinnes looks at her—almost as if he were going to take her in his arms. Then he shuts his upper teeth over his lower lip, hard—just as he does when riding at the water jump.
"A fellow mayn't be much to look at," he says, gruffly, "but he can ride straight, for all that."
Mabel half turns her head, and he has the satisfaction of concluding that she has no fault to find with his riding.
"Of course," he says, abruptly, "there is s'm' other fellow?"
After a pause, Miss Maddison nods.
"Miss Maddison," says Lord Saint Sinnes, rising and jerking his knees back after the manner of horsey persons, "you can go back into that room and take your Bible oath that I never asked you to marry me."
Mabel rises also. She wants to say something, but there is a lump in her throat.
"Some people," he goes on, "will say that you bungled it, others that
I behaved abominably, but—but we know better, eh?"
He offers his arm, and they walk toward the house.