When he had duly seen to the tired animal's comfort and foddering he returned to the roadway, where a young man in hunting garb and a livened chauffeur were standing by the side of the waiting car.
"I am so very pleased to be of some use to you, Mr.Yeovil," said the car- owner, with a polite bow, and Yeovil recognised the young Leutnant von Gabelroth, who had been present at the musical afternoon at Berkshire Street.

He had doubtless seen him at the meet that morning, but in his hunting kit he had escaped his observation.
"I, too, have been out with the hounds," the young man continued; "I have left my horse at the Crow and Sceptre at Dolford.

You are living at Black Dene, are you not?
I can take you right past your door, it is all on my way." Yeovil hung back for a moment, overwhelmed with vexation and embarrassment, but it was too late to cancel the arrangement he had unwittingly entered into, and he was constrained to put himself under obligation to the young officer with the best grace he could muster.
After all, he reflected, he had met him under his own roof as his wife's guest.

He paid his reckoning to mine host, tipped the stable lad who had helped him with his horse, and took his place beside von Gabelroth in the car.
As they glided along the dark roadway and the young German reeled off a string of comments on the incidents of the day's sport, Yeovil lay back amid his comfortable wraps and weighed the measure of his humiliation.

It was Cicely's gospel that one should know what one wanted in life and take good care that one got what one wanted.