“Oh, rather! My word, it would have been a catastrophe if she hadn’t taken to it.” He paused, considering the terrible situation from which he had been saved. “Can’t imagine what I should have done. But she’s never satisfied. She’s beginning to jeer at the old brown horse. I’ve seen a grey mare that might do for her,” and he went on to enumerate the animal’s points.
Rose said, “Why don’t you let her have her first season with the old horse? He knows his business. He’ll take care of her.”
“She wouldn’t approve of that. I tell you, she’s ambitious. I’ll go and fetch her and you’ll hear for yourself.”
She watched him bending over his wife, and saw Christabel rise and slip a hand under his arm. The action was a little like that of a young woman taking a walk with her young man, but it betokened a confidence which roused a slight feeling of envy and sadness in Rose’s heart.
“We have been talking about hunting,” she began at once.
“Oh, yes,” Christabel said. She looked warily from one to the other.
“I’m recommending you to stick to the old brown horse, but Francis says you laugh at him.”
“Would you ride him yourself?” Christabel asked.
“Not if I could get something better.”
“Well, then—” Christabel’s tone was final.