"Good day to you, sir."
His face seemed to narrow with sharp severity, and with scorn. He stared at Jasper as an eagle might eye a jay.
"I rode over to return the scarf Miss Durrell lent me."
"You might as well have kept the rubbish, Mr. Benham. Nance, I have been waiting for you. There are several papers of notes to be copied into the manuscript book."
Nance looked at him questioningly.
"Perhaps—Mr. Benham——"
"Mr. Benham is waiting to be off. We must not keep him. It will rain in half an hour; the wind is dropping."
Nance went up the steps to the terrace, and turned to glance, half-humourously, at Jasper.
"It is one of father's whims," her eyes said to him.
Jasper mounted his horse. He was angry, and a little puzzled.