He was wearing a new silk hat, with a slightly more generous brim than its predecessor, and it suited his type of face, robbed his dark eyes a little of their aggressiveness and gave him a solid and dignified and benevolent air. He brightened as she took off her hood. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. “You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. I wonder if some of them did—and it didn’t get reported. . A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself.
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