But fifty yards behind them was a small red-brick house buried in trees.

As they still paused, hand in hand, in front of the gate into the wood, which had failed to swing back and remained half open, the garden door of this house unclosed and a young woman in a kind of uniform stepped into the road.

She perceived the two riders--stopped in astonishment--observed them unseen, and walked quickly away in the direction of the station.
Roger reached Heston that night only just in time to dress for dinner.
By this time he was in a wholly different mood; angry with himself, and full of rueful thought about his wife.

Daphne and he had been getting on anything but well for some time past.

He knew that he had several times behaved badly; why, indeed, that very afternoon, had he held Chloe Fairmile's hand in the public road, like an idiot?
Suppose anyone had passed?
It was only Daphne's tempers and the discomfort at home that made an hour with Chloe so pleasant--and brought the old recollections back.