Olga was with him,
endeavouring to assist.
Nick's face grinned welcome impartially to the newcomers. "Hullo! This
is luck. Delighted to see you. Grange, my boy, here's a little job
exactly suited to your Herculean strength. Climb down like a good
fellow, and lend a hand."
Grange glanced at Muriel, and with a slight shrug handed her his
bridle. "I'm not much good at this sort of thing," he remarked, as he
dismounted.
"Never thought you were for a moment," responded Nick. "But I suppose
you can do as you're told at a pinch. This filthy thing has got
jammed. It's too tough a job for a single-handed pigmy like me." He
glanced quizzically up at Muriel with the last remark, but she quickly
averted her eyes, bending to speak to Olga at the same instant.
Olga was living in the seventh heaven just then, and her radiant face
proclaimed it. "I'm learning to drive," she told Muriel. "It's the
greatest fun. You would just love it. I know you would." She stood
fondling the horses and chattering while the two men wrestled with the
motor's internal arrangements, and Muriel longed desperately to give
her animal the rein and flee away from the mocking sprite that gibed
at her from Nick's eyes. Whence came it, this feeling of insecurity,
this perpetual sense of fighting against the inevitable? She had
fancied that Blake's presence would be her safeguard, but now she
bitterly realised that it made no difference to her.
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