"Because you know this is Castle Nimrod, in which nothing is allowed to interfere with the one great business of life."
"It's like that; is it?"
"Quite like that. Lord Chiltern has taken up hunting as his duty in life, and he does it with his might and main. Not to have a good day is a misery to him;—not for himself but because he feels that he is responsible. We had one blank day last year, and I thought that he never would recover it. It was that unfortunate Trumpington Wood."
"How he will hate me."
"Not if you will praise the hounds judiciously. And then there is a Mr. Spooner coming here to-night. He is the first-lieutenant. He understands all about the foxes, and all about the farmers. He has got a wife."
"Does she understand anything?"
"She understands him. She is coming too. They have not been married long, and he never goes anywhere without her."
"Does she ride?"
"Well; yes. I never go out myself now because I have so much of it all at home. But I fancy she does ride a good deal. She will talk hunting too. If Chiltern were to leave the country I think they ought to make her master. Perhaps you'll think her rather odd; but really she is a very good woman."
"I am sure I shall like her."