him.

George turned and saw Winlow, and with a curse and a smile he answered:

"Hallo!"

The Hon. Geoffrey ranged alongside, examining George's face at leisure.

"Afraid you had a bad race, old chap! I hear you've sold the Ambler to
that fellow Guilderstein."

In George's heart something snapped.

'Already?' he thought. 'The brute's been crowing. And it's that little
bounder that my horse--my horse....'

He answered calmly:

"Wanted the money."

Winlow, who was not lacking in cool discretion, changed the subject.

Late that evening George sat in the Stoics' window overlooking
Piccadilly. Before his eyes, shaded by his hand, the hansoms passed,
flying East and West, each with the single pale disc of face, or the
twin discs of faces close together; and the gentle roar of the town came
in, and the cool air refreshed by night. In the light of the lamps the
trees of the Green Park stood burnished out of deep shadow where nothing
moved; and high over all, the stars and purple sky seemed veiled with
golden gauze. Figures without end filed by. Some glanced at the lighted
windows and the man in the white shirt-front sitting there. And many
thought: 'Wish I were that swell, with nothing to do but step into his
father's shoes;' and to many no thought came. But now and then some
passer murmured to himself: "Looks lonely sitting there."

And to those faces gazing up, George's lips were grim, and over them
came and went a little bitter smile; but on his forehead he felt still
the touch of his horse's muzzle, and his eyes, which none could see,
were dark with pain.

CHAPTER XI

MR. BARTER TAKES A WALK

The event at the Rectory was expected every moment. The Rector, who
practically never suffered, disliked the thought and sight of others'
suffering. Up to this day, indeed, there had been none to dislike, for
in answer to inquiries his wife had always said "No, dear, no; I'm all
right--really, it's nothing." And she had always said it smiling, even
when her smiling lips were white. But this morning in trying to say
it she had failed to smile. Her eyes had lost their hopelessly hopeful
shining, and sharply between her teeth she said: "Send for Dr. Wilson,
Russell."

The Rector kissed her, shutting his eyes, for he was afraid of her face
with its lips drawn back, and its discoloured cheeks. In five minutes
the groom was hastening to Cornmarket on the roan cob, and the Rector
stood in his study, looking from one