The ten miles along the road, which had
been done in little more than an hour, had almost overcome her. She
had determined not to cry for mercy. as the hard trot went on. She
had passed herself off as an accustomed horsewoman, and having done
so well across the country, would not break down coming home. But,
as she got into the carriage, she was very tired. She could almost
have cried with fatigue;--and yet she told herself that now,--
now,--must the work be done. She would perhaps tell him that she
was tired. She might even assist her cause by her languor; but,
though she should die for it, she would not waste her precious
moments by absolute rest. "May I light a cigar?" he said as he
got in.
"You know you may. Wherever I may be with you do you think that I
would interfere with your gratifications?"
"You are the best girl in all the world," he said as he took out
his case and threw himself back in the corner."
"Do you call that a long day?" she asked when he had lit his cigar.
"Not very long."
"Because I am so tired."
"We came home pretty sharp. I thought it best not to shock her
Grace by too great a stretch into the night. As it is you will have
time to go to bed for an hour or two before you dress. That's what
I do when I am in time. You'll be right as a trivet then."
"Oh; I'm right now,--only tired.
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