At that moment she would have killed him gladly; she felt her body soiled by his, but her mind was curiously untouched. It knew no disgust for his desire nor for her folly, and while she hated him for sitting there and laughing at her fall, this was still a game she loved and meant to play. In the heather she sat and glowered at him, but now she could hardly see his face.
"That was a silly thing to do," she heard him say. "You might easily have been kicked. What did you do it for?"
She would not own her knowledge of his real offence, and she muttered angrily, "Galloping like that—"
"Didn't you like it? He's as steady as a rock."
"How could I know that?"
"And I thought you had some pluck."
"I have. I sat quite still."
Again he laughed. "I made you."
"Oh," she burst out. "I'll never trust you again."
"You would if you knew—if you knew—but never mind. I wanted to see you on a horse. You shall have him to yourself next time. I'll get a side saddle."