He was no longer an official, but a man, with feelings rendered all the keener for the habitual restraint with which he masked them.
He moved forward at length through the magic moonlight, guided by the sound of trampling hoofs in the building where Jack's horse was stabled.
He reached the doorway, treading softly, and looked in.
Dot was in a stall with his mount Rupert--a powerful grey, beside which she looked even lighter and daintier than usual.

The animal was nibbling carelessly at her arm while she filled the manger with hay.

She was talking to him softly, and did not perceive Hill's presence.

Robin, who sat waiting near the entrance, merely pricked his ears at his approach.
Some minutes passed.

Fletcher stood like a sentinel against the doorpost.
He might have been part of it for his immobility.