Winterborne, although he had seen it, had not taken it into
account. On examination, he said it was Mrs. Charmond's.

Grace watched the vehicle and its easy roll, and seemed to feel
more nearly akin to it than to the one she was in.

"Pooh! We can polish off the mileage as well as they, come to
that," said Winterborne, reading her mind; and rising to emulation
at what it bespoke, he whipped on the horse. This it was which
had brought the nose of Mr. Melbury's old gray close to the back
of Mrs. Charmond's much-eclipsing vehicle.

"There's Marty South Sitting up with the coachman," said he,
discerning her by her dress.

"Ah, poor Marty! I must ask her to come to see me this very
evening. How does she happen to be riding there?"

"I don't know. It is very singular."

Thus these people with converging destinies went along the road
together, till Winterborne, leaving the track of the carriage,
turned into Little Hintock, where almost the first house was the
timber-merchant's. Pencils of dancing light streamed out of the
windows sufficiently to show the white laurestinus flowers, and
glance over the polished leaves of laurel. The interior of the
rooms could be seen distinctly, warmed up by the fire-flames,
which in the parlor were reflected from the glass of the pictures
and bookcase, and in the kitchen from the utensils and ware.