"I might think of riding him perhaps," she said slowly, "on one condition."
"What's that?"
"That you don't bet on him."
He rolled off into deep, ironical laughter.
"Done with you!" he cried, holding out his hand.
She brushed it aside.
"What I said was that I might think of it," she said, and made for the door.
He did not pursue.
"Oh, do!" he cried lazily. "Do!"
"I shall see," she answered. "I might and I might not. Probably the latter."