He is only an armchair stuffed to look like a horse.
And I will lead him." Fay still hesitated.
He took an authoritative tone.

He must insist on her riding home.

She was tired already, and it was a long mile up hill to Priesthope.
Fay acquiesced.

To-day of all days she was not in a condition for anything but a dazed acceptance of events as they came.
Wentworth lifted her gently onto the saddle, and put one small dangling foot into a stirrup shortened to meet it.
She was alarmed and clutched Conrad's mane, but gradually her timidity was reassured, and they set out slowly together, Wentworth walking beside her, with his hand on the rein.
The little bunch of palm was forgotten.

It had done its part.
Wentworth talked and Fay listened, or seemed to listen.