She stood for a moment with her costly dressing-gown held together with
one white hand, her lids half closed.
"He has written to her," she said to herself. "Has he broken with her
for good, or will he try and keep her? I would give something to see
that letter, to know exactly how he stands. And how I stand! I wonder
how he will send it? He is taking it to the stables." She thought a
moment, then she smiled. "Pottinger!" she murmured.
Stafford found Pottinger giving the last loving touches with a silk
handkerchief to Adonis. His coat and waistcoat were off, his shirt open
at the neck and his sleeves turned up. He touched his forehead with a
respectful and welcoming greeting, and without any surprise; for
Stafford very often paid an early visit to the stable, and had more
than once lent a hand in grooming a favourite horse.
"Looks well, sir, don't he?" said Pottinger, passing a hand over the
glossy black and finishing up with a loving smack. "I'm rather late
this morning, sir." He smiled and looked a little sheepish. "We had a
little bit of jollification in the servants' hall, on our own account,
sir, and were enjoying ourselves like our betters."
"That's right," said Stafford. Something in his voice caused Pottinger
to glance at him with surprise and apprehension; but, of course, he
could not say anything, and he dropped his eyes respectfully after the
one glance at Stafford's haggard face.
"I want you take a letter for me this morning, Pottinger," said
Stafford. "You can take Adonis; it will exercise him, as I shall not
ride him to-day. Here is the letter. Heron Hall lies on the other side
of the river. I want the letter taken there early this morning."
Pottinger touched his forehead. "I know the Hall, sir; I've ridden
over there with messages from the housekeeper and from Mr. Davis."
"There will be no answer," said Stafford. "Simply leave it."
"Yes, sir," said Pottinger. "Would you mind putting it in my
saddle-wallet, sir? I won't touch it till my hands are clean."
Stafford put the letter in the wallet, said a few words to Adonis and
some of the other horses, and then left the stable. He heard voices on
the terrace, and, to avoid meeting anyone until he was compelled, he
went down the slope of the lawn, and, seating himself on a bank, lit a
cigarette.