Sir Stephen linked his arm in Stafford's, and they walked a
little apart along one of the smooth paths.
"Not bored, I hope, my boy?" he asked.
"Good gracious, no, sir!" replied Stafford. "I don't think I remember a
more successful dinner. Why should I be bored?"
"That's all right!" said Sir Stephen, pressing his arm. "I was afraid
you might be. They are not a bad set--the men, I mean--if you keep them
off their hobbies; and we managed to do that, I think."
"Yes, I noticed you managed them very well, sir," said Stafford. "What
a lovely night." They had reached a gate opening on to the road, and
they stood and looked at the view in silence for a moment, listening to
a nightingale, whose clear notes joined with the voices and laughter of
the guests.
Suddenly another sound came upon the night air; a clatter of horses'
hoofs and the rattle of wheels.
"Someone driving down the road," said Sir Stephen.
"And coming at a deuce of a pace!" said Stafford. He opened the gate
and looked up the road; then he uttered an ejaculation.
"By George! they've bolted!" he said, in his quiet way.
"What?" asked Sir Stephen, as he, too, came out.
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