All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. . And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. Couldn’t fit it inside, but the horse’s blanket lay over it, and, like I said, as long as no one rides him and don’t remove the blanket, I think it’ll stay hid. ‘Do not think—’ he panted, ‘that I am finished—with you, mademoiselle. I think that I am very fortunate to have it to sign. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. . But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy.
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