"I would rather go alone, my lord," she said. "I am going to call on a
friend."
"Oh, but I can go as far as the door with you, surely," he said, with
the smile of a man too self-satisfied to accept a woman's rebuff
seriously. "Two's company and one's none."
"But there are already two," said Celia, forcing a smile and glancing at
Roddy. "It is very kind of your lordship, but I would rather be alone."
She moved on quickly, her heart beating rather fast with resentment, her
face crimson. Heyton followed her to the door, and stood looking after
her, an evil smile on his face.
"Pretty high and mighty for a typewriting girl," he muttered. "By jove!
she's pretty. I like that swing of hers. All right, my girl; I'm not
taken in by that mock shyness. You wait awhile. Yes; she's deuced
pretty. I wonder how the old man picked her up!"
Celia had gone some distance before she recovered her equanimity.
Certainly, this son of the Marquess was a hateful creature, and she
could not help wondering how even so shallow and frivolous a woman as
his wife could have married him. She had reached the bend of the road,
when she stopped short and stared with amazement at a group which
presented itself a little farther down.
On the bank adjoining the pathway was seated Lady Gridborough; her hat
was on one side, her face was flushed, her mantle dusty and disarranged;
but her good-natured face was wreathed in smiles as she watched a young
man, standing beside the Exmoor pony and attempting to keep it from
rearing and plunging.
"Oh, whatever is the matter?" demanded Celia, as she ran forward.
Lady Gridborough looked up, laughed, and wiped her eyes.
"Good morning, my dear," she said; "you've come just in time to enjoy a
little comedy." She nodded at the young man and the frisking pony. "Turk
took it into his head to bolt just now, coming down the hill there. I
suppose it was only his fun, but we ran up on to the path, the cart
overturned----"
"Oh! Are you hurt?" demanded Celia, anxiously.
"Not a bit," replied Lady Gridborough; "but I might have been, for I was
mixed up with the cart in some extraordinary fashion. I don't know what
might have happened if it hadn't been for that young man there. He
appeared on the scene as if he had dropped from the clouds; he
disentangled me somehow, set the cart up again, and is now trying to
persuade that fool of a pony that this isn't a circus."