No tying to hitching-posts or tree-boxes, or picking up of a loose negro to watch his restless steed when he had a stable full of thoroughbreds and quarters packed with grooms.
"Yes, Marse Colonel--yes, sah--Marse George is inside--yes, sah--but Marse Harry's out." He had not asked for Harry, but Todd wanted him to get all the facts in case there was to be another such scene as black John described had taken place at the club on the occasion of the colonel's last visit to the Chesapeake.
"Then I'll go in unannounced, and you need not wait, Todd." St.George was in his arm-chair by the mantel looking over one of his heavy ducking-guns when the Lord of Moorlands entered.

He was the last man in the world he expected to see, but he did not lose his self-control or show in any way his surprise.

He was host, and Rutter was his guest; nothing else counted now.
St.George rose to his feet, laid the gun carefully on the table, and with a cold smile on his face--one of extreme courtesy--advanced to greet him.
"Ah, Talbot--it has been some time since I had this pleasure.

Let me draw up a chair for you--I'll ring for Todd and--" "No, St.George.I prefer to talk to you alone." "Todd is never an interruption." "He may be to-day.

I have something to say to you--and I don't want either to be interrupted or misunderstood.