“Is he handsome?” said Mr. Crewe, as though the idea were a new one. “Great Scott, I don't believe she gives him a thought. She's only going as far as the field with him. She insisted on leaving her horse there instead of putting him in the stable.”
“Catch Alice going as far as the field with him,” said Mrs. Pomfret, “but I've done my duty. It's none of my affair.”
In the meantime Austen and Victoria had walked on some distance in silence.
“I have an idea with whom Mr. Crewe is in love,” he said at length.
“So have I,” replied Victoria, promptly. “Humphrey's in love with himself. All he desires in a wife—if he desires one—is an inanimate and accommodating looking-glass, in whom he may see what he conceives to be his own image daily. James, you may take the mare home. I'm going to drive with Mr. Vane.”
She stroked Pepper's nose while Austen undid the hitch-rope from around his neck.
“You and I are getting to be friends, aren't we, Pepper?” she asked, as the horse, with quivering nostrils, thrust his head into her hand. Then she sprang lightly into the buggy by Austen's side. The manner of these acts and the generous courage with which she defied opinion appealed to him so strongly that his heart was beating faster than Pepper's hoof-beats on the turf of the pasture.
“You are very good to come with me,” he said gravely, when they had reached the road; “perhaps I ought not to have asked you.”
“Why?” she asked, with one of her direct looks.
“It was undoubtedly selfish,” he said, and added, more lightly, “I don't wish to put you into Mrs. Pomfret's bad graces.”