There was no present answer for the questions, and yet they could not be dismissed from the mind. She was glad to find that Philip was innocent of any conscious cause of offence, and pleased that he should go at once to seek an explanation. * * * * * The stables, the barn, with their red-tile roofs washed with varying shades of green, the cow-house and piggeries with a white row of labourers’ cottages, formed a cosy group of buildings by the side of the green lane which led from Willowmere to the main road between the village of Kingshope and the little town of Dunthorpe. Crawshay was standing in the gateway with a tall gentleman whose features were almost entirely concealed by thick black beard, whiskers, and moustache. By way of contrast perhaps, he wore a white hat. His dark-blue frock-coat was buttoned tightly; in his claret-coloured scarf was a horseshoe pin studded with diamonds; his boots were covered by yellow gaiters. A smart man, evidently of some importance. He was discussing with Crawshay the merits of a horse which was being trotted up and down the lane for their inspection. ‘You won’t find anywhere a better bit of horse-flesh for your purpose,’ Crawshay was saying whilst he held the stem of an acorn-cup in the side of his mouth like a pipe. ‘When you say that, Crawshay, I am satisfied, and he would be a fool who was not. We’ll consider it a bargain.’ ‘Give her another turn, Jerry.—There’s action for you!’ he added with enthusiasm as the animal was trotted up and down the lane again. ‘There’s form!—proper, ain’t it? Seems to me that I can’t part with her.’ ‘You cannot help it now: we have struck the bargain,’ rejoined the purchaser, grinning. He was aware that the farmer’s exclamation was in no degree akin to any of the horse-dealer’s tricks to enhance the animal’s value. ‘Well, you are a neighbour, Mr Wrentham, and that is always a sort of comfort.’ ‘I’ll be good to her, never fear. Now, I’m off.—Hullo, Hadleigh, how are you? I am just bolting to catch my train. Good-bye.’ Mr Wrentham walked smartly into the stable-yard, got into his gig and drove off, waving his hand to his two friends as he passed through the gateway. Philip, who just then had entered the gateway, was glad to see him go: first, because he did not like the man, although frequently forced into contact with him; and, second, because he wanted to be alone with Crawshay. The latter had not displayed any coldness and had given him the customary greeting. He was patting the mare he had just sold and passing his hand affectionately over her flanks whilst he repeated various expressions of admiration, the burden of them all being: ‘He’s got a rare bargain, but he’s a smart fellow and he’ll be good to you, old girl.’ ‘I have been hunting for you everywhere,’ said Philip with his frank smile and without any fear of the explanation which was about to take place. ‘Are you going up to the house just now?’