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Meanwhile, Lady Edna stood there, on the terrace looking across the lawns and deep old rose gardens in the direction of Borne Abbey. She was alone, for Shorland had gone off in the direction of the stables in search of the head coachman who was more or less a friend of his, for horses and dogs had an irresistible fascination for the man who had been brought up amongst them all his life, and, indeed, had he stuck to those humble companions, it would have been better for him, and better for the fortunes of his house. He had made some trivial excuse for calling Lady Edna outside, and she had remained there, more or less fascinated by the beauty of the evening.
In the hall she could hear Sherringborne and Philip talking with a certain intimacy that prevented her joining them for the moment.