was never meant for Brixton ... No, nor I ... Why didn't I hold my
tongue? ... Oh what a fool, what a fool! Thank Heaven the horses come
out of a livery stable ... They can't go on for ever and--oh, my God!
there are rabbit-holes on the Downs." And his voice rose to a shout:
"Stella! Stella!"

But she never looked over her shoulder. She fled the more desperately,
shamed through and through! Along the high ridge, between the bushes and
the beech-trees, their shadows flitted over the turf, to a jingle of bits
and the thunder of hoofs. Duncton Beacon rose far behind them; they had
crossed the road and Charlton forest was slipping past like dark water
before the mad race came to an end. Stella became aware that escape was
impossible. Her horse was spent, she herself reeling. She let her reins
drop loose and the gallop changed to a trot, the trot to a walk. She
noticed with gratitude that Thresk was giving her time. He too had fallen
to a walk behind her, and quite slowly he came to her side. She turned
to him at once.

"This is good country for a gallop, isn't it?"

"Rabbit-holes though," said he. "You were lucky."

He answered absently. There was something which had got to be said now.
He could not let this girl to whom he owed--well, the only holiday that
he had ever taken, go home shamed by a mistake, which after all she had
not made. He was very near indeed to saying yet more. The inclination was
strong in him, but not so strong as the methods of his life. Marriage
now--that meant to his view the closing of all the avenues of
advancement, and a life for both below both their needs.