Again he fell to studying the graceful lines of the thoroughbred, oblivious of his audience.
“She is a Southern horse,” commented Mrs. Calvert. “Rather she was. Of course you-all heard of her poisoning? It never said whether she recovered. Do you know?”
Garrison glanced up quickly, and met Sue Desha's unwavering stare.
“Why, I believe I did hear that she was poisoned, or something to that effect, now that you mention it.” His eyes were still vacant.
“You look as if you had seen a ghost,” laughed Sue, her eyes on the magnolia-tree.
He laughed somewhat nervously. “I—I've been thinking.”
“Is the major going in for the Carter this year?” asked the girl, turning to Mrs. Calvert. “Who will he run—Dixie?”
“I think so. She is the logical choice.” Mrs. Calvert was nervously prodding the gravel with her sunshade. “Sometimes I wish he would give up all ideas of it.”
“I think father is responsible for that. Since Rogue won the last Carter, father is horse-mad, and has infected all his neighbors.”
“Then it will be friend against friend,” laughed Mrs. Calvert. “For, of course, the colonel will run Rogue again this year—”