She just shook her head; and Harbinger flushed up.
"Why ?" he asked; and as though the enormous injustice of that rejecting gesture had suddenly struck him, he dropped her hand.
"Why ?" he said again, sharply.
But the silence was only broken by the cheeping of sparrows outside the round window, and the sound of the horse, Hal, munching the last morsel of his carrot.

Harbinger was aware in his every nerve of the sweetish, slightly acrid, husky odour of the loosebox, mingling with the scent of Barbara's hair and clothes.

And rather miserably, he said for the third time: "Why ?" But folding her hands away behind her back she answered gently: "My dear, how should I know why ?" She was calmly exposed to his embrace if he had only dared; but he did not dare, and went back to the loose-box wall.

Biting his finger, he stared at her gloomily.

She was stroking the muzzle of her horse; and a sort of dry rage began whisking and rustling in his heart.