Maud Barrington, it was evident, also noticed it.
"Geoffrey Courthorne rode as that man does," she said.

"I remember hearing my mother once tell him that he had been born too late, because his attributes and tastes would have fitted him to follow Prince Rupert." Winston made no answer, and the man rode on until he drew bridle in front of them.

Then he swung his hat off, and while the moonlight shone into his face looked down with a little ironical smile at the man and woman standing beside the horse.

Winston closed one hand a trifle, and slowly straightened himself, feeling that there was need of all his self-control, for he saw his companion glance at him, and then almost too steadily at Lance Courthorne.
The latter said nothing for a space of seconds, for which Winston hated him, and yet in the tension of the suspense he noticed that the signs of indulgence he had seen on the last occasion were plainer in Courthorne's face.

The little bitter smile upon his lips was also not quite in keeping with the restlessness of his fingers upon the bridle.
"Is that bridge fit for crossing, farmer ?" he asked.
"Yes," said Winston quietly.