He spoke quietly at fifteen yards' distance, but each word reached the group of horsemen as clear as a bell.
"Rablin," he said, "as a damned fool oblige me during the next few minutes by keeping your mouth shut." With this he resumed his old attitude and his business of watching the covert side; removing his eyes for a moment to nod as Sir Harry rode up and passed on to join the group behind him.
He had scarcely done so when deep in the undergrowth of blackthorn a hound challenged.
"Spendigo for a fiver!--and well found, by the tune of it," cried Sir Harry.

"See that patch of grey wall, Rablin--there, in a line beyond the Master's elbow?
I lay you an even guinea that's where my gentleman comes over." But honest reprobation mottled the face of Mr.Rablin, squireen; and as an honest man he spoke out.

Let it go to his credit, because as a rule he was a snob and inclined to cringe.
"I did not expect"-- he cleared his throat--"to see you out to-day, Sir Harry." Sir Harry winced, and turned on them all a grey, woeful face.
"That's it," he said.

"I can't bide home.

I can't bide home." Honoria bided home with her child and mourned for the dead.
As a clever woman--far cleverer than her husband--she had seen his faults while he lived; yet had liked him enough to forgive without difficulty.