“On a pillion?”
“No; her brother has a capital horse, not up to his weight, that would just carry me. He is so anxious that I should try it; it jumps beautifully.”
“And what does Miss Parrett say?”
“I think Mrs. Waring may talk her over, and Mr. Woolcock promises to look after me.”
This information roused Wynyard’s ire, his face hardened, and his tone was dry as he said—
“Woolcock is too heavy to hunt, except pounding along the road. He must weigh seventeen stone!”
“Very likely; but he is going to do a cure before the season opens.”
“Why not a couple of hours with the garden roller, and save the donkey?”
Miss Morven took no notice of this impudent suggestion—merely flicked her habit with her hunting crop, and he continued—
“Westmere is a fine old place.”