Wilmot across the table. She
lent him their wonder for a moment, then looked down at her bosom. He was
satisfied. There were still women in the world.
"What shall we do?" he asked her. "Will you be driven? Will you drive?
Will you ride?" Another shaft rewarded him, which said, "Do with me as you
will."
Ingram rang the bell. Minnie appeared. "Tell Frodsham, the horses at a
quarter past eleven. I ride Sea-King, Mrs. Wilmot Lorna Doone. He had
better come--or Butters will do. That's all."
Mrs. Devereux had been ignored, but was not displeased. It showed, at
least, that Ingram knew she was not to be disposed of like a white rabbit.
It was, however, necessary to say something, to declare one's presence, as
it were; so she collected her papers. "I have letters to write. You will
excuse me, I know."
Chevenix sprang to the door. "By George, I should think so," he said,
which was well intended, but too brisk. He bowed her out, shut her out,
and stood with his eyes on the others.
Ingram remained before the fire looking out of window. "She's in a wax. I
don't know why."
"Oh, don't you, my boy?" said Chevenix to himself.
Mrs. Wilmot trifled with her tea-spoon. "And I don't care--much," he
added.
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