She reined in somewhat reluctantly.  “I suppose we had better go back.”

“If your majesty decrees,” said Nap.

He pulled the mare round and stood motionless, waiting for her to pass.  He sat arrogantly at his ease.  She could not fail to note that his horsemanship was magnificent.  The mare stood royally as though she bore a king.  The man’s very insignificance of bulk seemed to make him the more superb.

“Will you deign to lead the way?” he said.

And Anne passed him with a vague sense of uneasiness that almost amounted to foreboding.  For it seemed to her as if for those few moments he had imposed his will upon hers, had without effort overthrown all barriers of conventional reserve, and had made her acknowledge in him the mastery of man.

Rejoining the hunt, she made her first deliberate attempt to avoid him, an attempt that was so far successful that for the next hour she saw nothing of him beyond casual glimpses.  She did not join her husband, for he resented her proximity in the hunting-field.

They drew blank in a wood above the first kill, but finally found after considerable delay along a stubbly stretch of ground bordering Baronmead, a large estate that the eldest Errol had just bought.  The fox headed straight for the Baronmead woods and after him streamed the hunt pell-mell along a stony valley.

It was not Anne’s intention to be in at a second death that day, and she deliberately checked the grey’s enthusiasm when he would have borne her headlong through the scampering crowd.  To his indignation, instead of pursuing the chase in the valley, she headed him up the hill.  He protested with vehemence, threatening to rebel outright, but Anne was determined, and eventually she had her way.  Up the hill they went.

It was a scramble to reach the top, for the ground was steep and sloppy, but on the summit of the ridge progress was easier.  She gave the grey the rein and he carried her forward at a canter.  From here she saw the last of the horsemen below her sweep round the curve towards Baronmead, and the hubbub growing fainter in the distance told her that the hounds were already plunging through the woods.  Ahead of her the ridge culminated in a bare knoll whence it was evident that she could overlook a considerable stretch of country.  She urged her animal towards it.

The mist was thickening in the valley, and it had begun to drizzle.  The watch on her wrist said two o’clock, and she determined to turn her face homewards as soon as she had taken this final glimpse.

The grey, snorting and sweating, stumbled up the slippery ascent.  He was plainly disgusted with his rider’s tactics.  They arrived upon the summit, and Anne brought him to a standstill.  But though she still heard vague shoutings below her the mist had increased so much in the few minutes they had taken over the ascent that she could discern nothing.  Her horse was winded after the climb, however, and she remained motionless to give him time to recover.  The hubbub was dying away, and she surmised that the fox had led his pursuers out on the farther side of the woods.  She shivered as the chill damp crept about her.  A feeling of loneliness that was almost physical possessed her.  She half wished that she had not forsaken the hunt after all.