Ninnis greeted her with gruff cordiality--began a sort of speech about the cause of her departure--condolence and congratulations stupidly mixed.

McKeith impatiently cut him short.
'All right, Ninnis.

Get up.

And mind, the horses are fresh.

They'll want a bit of driving at the start.' He helped Bridget to her seat, tucked the brown linen coverlet round her knees.