He knew what she meant, but he was in such a hurry to defend himself that he failed to find the words he wanted.
"I was rude to you the other night," Rada went on relentlessly. "I was rude to you at the Derby. I couldn't help myself. I always say just what comes into my head."
Mostyn was quite aware of this, but he did not mean to say so; he wanted to be very gentle with Rada, quite unconscious that gentleness was the one thing which in her present temper she would resent. "I don't think you meant to hurt," he said softly.
"I did," she retorted viciously. "You made such an idiot of yourself, nobody could have helped being rude and laughing at you. And yet it's you—a man who hasn't the smallest idea of racing, a man who'd buy a donkey and enter it for the Derby if he acted upon his own intelligence—it's you who, because you know I laid store by my horse, and because you've got some insane idea in your head of besting me on the racecourse—it's you who've played me this trick!" She spoke violently without the smallest attempt to weigh her words. "You knew Castor was mine," she went on. "You must have guessed it from what I said the other night. You knew, too, that my father is not to be depended upon. And if you had not known all that, Jack Treves told you the truth immediately after you had made the purchase; there was plenty of time to repair the error, if you had not been spiteful against me."
Mostyn flushed, stung by the injustice, but he was quite determined that he would not lose his temper. "You misjudge me," he said, "you misjudge me utterly. The whole thing has been a mistake, and if I have been to blame in any way I am quite willing to repair the error." He had no wish to enter into any long explanation, or to cast the blame where he knew it was merited, upon Rada's father. He realised, and very probably correctly, that this would only appear a further meanness in the girl's eyes. "The position is very simple," he went on, "and there is no need for you to scold me, Miss Armitage; please consider that Castor is yours."
It was Rada's turn to flush, for this was just what her father had hinted at, what he had no doubt relied upon. To accept Castor as a gift at Mostyn's hands was the very last thing which, in her present mood, she was prepared to do.
She drew herself up stiffly. "You are very kind," she said, "but do you think that we are beggars, my father and I, that you dare to make such a suggestion? What are you to me that I should accept a present from you?"
"Since there has been a mistake," Mostyn said, vainly striving to reconcile the girl's inconsistency in his mind, "I want to repair it the best way I can."
"Quite forgetting that there is such a thing as pride," Rada interrupted, "and that I have my fair share of it. No, Mr. Clithero, you have bought Castor, and Castor is yours, unless I am able to purchase him back. That is what I wish to see you about. I love my horse," she went on, sucking in her lips as though she found it difficult to make her explanation, "and there are many reasons why Castor should be particularly dear to me. So, since, as you say, the whole thing has been a mistake, you will let me buy Castor back. My father is bound to let me have the money," she added mendaciously, "when he knows how badly I want my horse."
Mostyn knew that this was not true, that Captain Armitage was the last man in the world to disgorge any money that he had become possessed of by any means whatsoever. He knew, too, that there were certainly no funds upon which Rada could draw, and he wondered vaguely how she proposed to raise a thousand pounds to repay him.