a happy smile.

Surely, oh surely, Mrs. Nevill Tyson was the soul of indiscretion; for at
that moment Miss Batchelor, trotting past with Lady Morley, looked from
them to her companion and smiled too.

That smile was the first stone.

Miss Batchelor acknowledged them with a curt little nod, and Mrs.
Nevill Tyson's face became instantly overclouded. Louis leaned a little
nearer and said in a husky, uneven voice, "Surely you don't mind that
impertinent woman?"

"Not a bit," said Mrs. Nevill Tyson. "She's got a villainous seat."

"Then what are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking what horrid hard lines it is that they won't let me hunt.
All the time I might have been flying across country with Nevill, instead
of--"

"Instead of crawling in a dog-cart with me. Thank you, Mrs. Nevill."

"You needn't thank me. I haven't given you anything."

Again Stanistreet wondered whether Mrs. Nevill was very simple or very
profound. And wondering, he gave the mare a cut across the flanks that
made her leap in the shafts.

"That was silly of you. She'll have her heels through before you know