“Very greedy of him if he did it all at once.”
“It was all at once. The strap of the lift broke as he was hauling them up!”
“Poor devil!” said Frank absently.
They were quite away from the houses now, and the brisk, pure air, the pleasant scents from the hedgerows, and the swift movement to the music of the horses’ feet, and perhaps some other sources of satisfaction within, brought a light to Fenella’s eyes, and a rose-soft color to her cheek that made her altogether enchanting and sweet.
“And pray,” said Frank, looking at her eagerly, unwillingly, as at forbidden fruit that sorely tempted him, “do you talk to any of the fellows at the hotel?”
“No,” she said airily, “they talk to me. You see, they are all so fond of Ronny.”
“No doubt,” said Frank, curtly and significantly.
“But I pretend not to hear. Stay—there is one man whom I talk to——”
“Who is he?” said Frank grimly, and looking straight between the horses’ ears.
“Oh, nobody in particular,” said Fenella, rather faintly, “but you see he has a small nephew here, and it seems he and Ronny met at the Grandisons’ in the country, and are quite old friends. So the barrister and I have got quite pally.”