“Well, my mother did not cry much, and I have no sisters to mourn for me.”
“No sisters,” she echoed, as if the fact struck hot as unusual.
“No, nor brothers either—only cousins.”
“Sometimes they do just as well; are they pretty?”
“No,” he answered rather curtly, as Cossie’s round complacent face rose before his mental eye.
After a short pause he changed the topic and asked:
“Do you ride, Miss Leigh?”
“Yes, but not since we’ve come to London; I love riding. In the country, in father’s lifetime, I rode a cob—he went in the cart, too; he was such a dear, but very tricky; once or twice he ran away with me; I didn’t tell father, because I knew I’d never again be allowed to ride alone, and I do enjoy riding by myself.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, for if I can rise to the price of a gee, I was hoping you would allow me to join you occasionally.”
“I should be delighted, but——” and she hesitated.