She had gone to the stall of her favourite horse and put her arms round Firefly’s neck.
Then, because she could not help it, the tears filled her eyes and she put her head down against his mane.
It was then that a voice she knew so well asked,
“What is upsetting you, my Lady?”
She knew without turning that it was John Hart.
“I just cannot help crying,” she murmured. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to go away tomorrow with that man.”
She was speaking to herself more than to John.
Then she felt his arm come round her and pull her away from the horse.
“Are you really saying,” he enquired, “that at the last moment you feel that you cannot marry a man you do not love?”
“I hate him! I just hate him!” she burst out. “He is everything I don’t want in a husband.”
She gazed up
