‘Well?’ she said. Here's your health in a bumper, and wishing you a better husband than your first. He uttered a short laugh. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. Ice had begun to form in the shallows. ‘No, let me guess,’ he interrupted. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. Still keeping ahead of his pursuers, he ran along the direct road, till the houses disappeared and he got into the open country. His science was a shared secret between them and she felt special to be trusted with them. Such of his features as were visible were of coarse mould.
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