"Why!" she exclaimed, stopping short, "if that isn't Captain Stafford
mounting his horse! Look, Beaty! And he hasn't even come to say
good-by."
Beatrice turned indifferently.
"I expect he has some important business--" she began, and then, as
her eyes fell on the man outside swinging himself up into the saddle,
she stopped and rose abruptly to her feet. "I have never seen anyone
look like that before!" she said, under her breath. "He looks--awful."
Mrs. Cary nodded.
"As though he had seen a ghost," she supplemented unsteadily. "What
can have happened?"
The horse's head was jerked around to the compound gates. Amidst a
clatter of hoofs and in a cloud of dust Stafford galloped out of
sight, not once turning to glance in their direction. The two women
stood and stared at each other, even Beatrice for the moment shaken
out of her usual self-control by what she had seen. They had no time
to make any further observations, for almost immediately Travers came
up the steps, his sun-helmet in his hand. Whatever had happened, he at
least seemed unmoved. The exceptional pallor of his face had given
place to the old healthy glow.
"I have come to drink Stafford's share of the tea as well as my own,"
he said cheerily. "You see, Mrs. Cary, in spite of your strict
injunctions, I have sent the poor fellow flying off on a fresh
business matter. He asked me to excuse him, as he was in a great
hurry.
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