By this time they had arrived at the polo ground, where a place near the tent was reserved exclusively for the party. Captain Prescott rode up to them proudly on his new polo pony, a recent investment.
"Hullo, Prescott," cried Charlie Young; "where did you rise the animal? Did you get him out of the Zoo?"
"Yes," he rejoined, with the utmost gravity; "don't you remember him when you were in the monkey-house?"
Dominga received this sally with a peal of laughter—this sort of wit appealed to her at once.
And Verona now saw Dominga in the society of men for the first time. She appeared to be enjoying herself prodigiously, and was what may be called "a quarrelsome flirt." Tossing her head, she said to one:
"Oh, Mr. Cox, I am not going to speak to you! Please pass on. You never came for that set of tennis. No! no! no!" and she turned her back on him with considerable dramatic effect. "Yes—and here is Captain Hibbert, just as bad! You wicked, faithless man, how can you look me in the face! Where is the novel that you promised me? You have fallen in my esteem to the bottom of the ladder."
"But won't you allow me to crawl up again?" he implored, with his hands in the attitude of prayer.
"No, certainly not; go away—do!"
By and by most of the men drifted away to play polo, and Major Gale captured "Baby" Charles, who departed with pitiable reluctance. And now Dominga and Mrs. Barwell fell into conversation, which, as time went on, became more intimate and more animated. Dominga's purrings and flatteries tickled the little lady's vanity and softened her heart; she discovered that Dominga Chandos was not "half bad," but a really agreeable girl, with plenty to say for herself, and full of news (such delicious little spiteful stories). Dominga had learned the fact that you may be risky—but never dull. Before they parted, Mrs. Barwell had invited her delighted acquaintance to come in and spend a long day with her soon. Oh, triumph! Oh, goal attained! Oh, success!
All at once Colonel Palgrave reappeared out of the crowd near the tent, accompanied by a young man, wearing the colours of a well-known cricket club. He had quick, red-brown eyes, sleek brown hair, a pale, impassive face, and a well-knit figure. He was presented to Mrs. Palgrave and her sister—to Mrs. Barwell and to Mrs. Tully. The stranger was completely at his ease, charmed to make their acquaintance, and somehow managed to convey the singular impression that he was an old resident—and that they had but just arrived.