“So I will, and I 'll be back immediately,” said he, not sorry to escape a scene where his confusion was now making him miserable.
“You are a very nice horse!” said she, patting the animal's neck, as he chafed to dash off after the other. “I 'd like very much to own you; that is, if I ever was to call anything my own.”
“They 're clearing the course, Mrs. Sewell,” said one of her companions, riding up; “we had better turn off this way, and ride down to the stand.”
“Here's a go!” cried another, coming up at speed. “Big Trafford is going to ride Crescy; he 's well-nigh fourteen stone.”
“Not thirteen: I 'll lay a tenner on it.”
“He can ride a bit,” said a third.
“I 'd rather he 'd ride his own horse than mine.”
“Sewell knows what he 's about, depend on 't.”
“That's his wife,” whispered another; “I'm certain she heard you.”
Mrs. Sewell turned her head as she cantered along, and, in the strange smile her features wore, seemed to confirm the speaker's words; but the hurry and bustle of the moment drowned all sense of embarrassment, and the group dashed onward to the stand.