"Some time since, I should guess," replied Silver. "What!"
They were moving along a narrow cart-track that led across a fallow. He was riding behind her, his eyes on her back. The bathing cap had been stuffed away, and her hair, still dark from the sea, was bare to the sun.
"I'm glad you came," she said casually over her shoulder.
"I was just out for a canter before going to look at the horses," he answered.
She nodded to where against the skyline a string of tall, thin-legged black creatures, each with a blob of jockey on his back, paraded solemnly against the sky.
"See them!" she said. "On the Mare's Back." She watched them critically. "That's Make-Way-There—No. 2 in the string. Now she's playing up." She lifted her voice. "Don't pull at her, you little goat!"
"They're going to gallop her this morning, I believe," said Silver. "You hear Chukkers has let me down?"
"No!" cried the girl keenly.
"Yes; he wired last night to say he couldn't ride for me at Paris."
If it was news to the girl, it was by no means unexpected, and she took the blow with philosophical calm.