Though she had withdrawn herself more and more of late from the society of the neighbourhood, she acted the part of hostess with unfailing graciousness.

On foot she moved among the throng, greeting everyone she knew.
Little Dot Waring, standing in the background with her brother on a certain misty morning in January marked her progress with looks of loving admiration.

Lady Carfax's mount, a powerful grey with nervous ears and gleaming eyes, was being held in unwilling subjection close to them.
"Be ready to mount her when she comes this way, Ralph," Dot whispered, as the tall figure drew nearer.
But the honour of mounting Lady Carfax was not for Ralph.

A man on a black mare--a slight man with high cheek-bones and an insolent bearing--was threading his way towards them through the crowd.

The mare, like the grey, was restive, and her rider swore at her whimsies as he came.
Meeting Dot's frank regard, he checked himself and raised his hat with a courtesy half-instinctive.
Dot stared, coloured, and very slightly bowed.
Ralph sniggered.