CHAPTER XBeatrice let the groom mount her because she saw that Ian was unnecessarily occupying himself with Redgauntlet.
He was cross because she had forced him to ride with her against his will, and she was prepared to let his crossness run its course.
Beatrice had the strength which ignores the outward forms of triumph. Nor did she try to propitiate Ian; she simply waited for his mood to match her own. Bad temper could not last on such a morning.
The world was white with unsubstantial mist; behind it the sun already glowed; the chestnut trees by the stable door stole slowly out of the mist, leaf by golden leaf; the cushions of moss on the roof were touched with fire, and heavy dew-drops trembled on the sprays of the turning ivy. Ladybird, Beatrice's young bay mare, champed impatiently
