Stafford raised his hat slightly.
"I am the bearer of a message from the young lady in the dining-room,
sir," he said. "She wishes me to tell you that she would prefer to
remain here until the evening."
The man swung round upon him with an alert and curious manner, half
startled, half resentful.
"What the devil--I beg your pardon! Prefers to remain here! Well!" He
muttered something that sounded extremely like an oath, then, with a
shrug of his shoulders, told the hostler to take the horses out. "Thank
you!" he said to Stafford, grudgingly. "I suppose my daughter is tired:
very kind of you."
"Not at all," responded Stafford, politely; and he got on
to Adonis, which Mr. Groves himself had led out, and rode away.
The gentleman looked after him with knitted brows.
"What is the name of that young fellow?" he asked of Groves.
"That is Mr. Stafford Orme, Sir Stephen's son, sir," replied Groves.
The gentleman was walking towards the house, but he pulled up short,
his eyes narrowed themselves to slits and his thick lips closed
tightly.
"A fine young fellow, sir!" said Groves, with respectful enthusiasm.
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