"Stop her," cried Clare, running down the terrace steps. "Stop her, you idiot. The mare's bolting."
"It's all right. The gate will stop her," Godfrey called. For all his swiftness he could not reach her now.
"It won't. We left it open. Don't you remember?"
"Oh, damn!" Connie mattered less to Godfrey than the mare, but both were serious propositions.
He stopped now. Clare, running, was nearly up to him. He faced her on the drive. There was nobody else in the world then but Clare and Godfrey, looking for some solution of the problem into each other's eyes. Muriel, hurrying behind Clare, felt this even then.
Without a word, Clare ran back to Blue Boy.
"Quick. You must catch her before she reaches the road," she said, tugging at the knotted strap.
"The girth's not fastened," cried Muriel, who knew just enough to see this.
Godfrey never listened. He was mounted, had turned, and was off along the drive in pursuit of Connie's flying figure.
The yellow mare was going hard, making for the gate at the south end of the drive. Godfrey, seeing this, swerved suddenly to the right.