The hills and valleys lay under a mantle of sparkling rime, and the very air, keen of edge and whistling, glistened in the sunlight.

The iron shoes of the horses beat sharply on the stone flooring of the court yard.

Maurice examined his riding furniture; pulled at the saddle, tugged at the rein buckles, lifted the leather flaps and tried the stirrup straps.

It was not that he doubted the ability of the groom; it was because this particular care was second nature to him.
Fitzgerald watched him, and meditated.

Some of his thoughts were not pleasant.