Behind came the gallopers; Marjorie on her black horse, Robin on Cecily, seeming to compete, yet each content if either won, each, maybe--or at least Marjorie--desiring that the other should win.

And the wind screamed past them as they went.
Then came the stoops--together as if fastened by one string--faultless and exquisite; and, as the two rode up and drew rein, there, side by side on the windy turf, two fierce statues of destiny--cruel-eyed, blood-stained on the beaks, resolute and suspicious--eyed them motionless, the claws sunk deeply through back and head--awaiting recapture.
Marjorie turned swiftly to the boy as he leaped off.
"In the chapel," she said, "at Padley." Robin stared at her.

Then he understood and nodded his head, as Mr.
Thomas rode up, his beard all blown about by the wind, breathless but congratulatory.
III It fell on Robin's mind with a certain heaviness and reproach that it should have been she who should have carried in her head all day the unknown news that he was to give her and he who should have forgotten it.

He understood then a little better of all that he must be to her, since, as he turned to her (his head full of hawks, and the glory of the shouting wind, and every thought of Faith and father clean blown away), it was to her mind that the under-thought had leapt, that here was their first, and perhaps their last, chance of speaking in private.
It was indeed their last chance, for the sun already stood over Chapel-le-Frith far away to the south-west; and they must begin their circle to return, in which the ladies should fly their merlins after larks, and there was no hope henceforth for Robin.

Henceforth she rode with Mrs.Fenton and two or three more, while the gentlemen who loved sport more than courtesy, turned to the left over the broken ground to work back once more after partridges.