His eyes, by a singular coincidence, met those of Miss Longmuir, which were very pretty eyes, dark and soft.
"I must go and hunt up our pony," she said, with a very businesslike air; "we've entered her for the third race, you know."
She put back her hair as it blew across her forehead, and the gold in it glinted in the sun.
"How sporting of you!" we heard Andrew say, as they walked away together.
My wife and Dr. Fraser and I turned as one man, and went in the opposite direction.
We steered for an island of furze and grey boulders that had been flung into the valley like a vedette from the fortified hill-side, and was placed, considerately, at the apex of the oval course. Half a dozen men were already grouped upon the boulders, like cormorants. We clambered to a higher étage, and there spread forth ourselves and our belongings upon the warm slabs. The sun was hot, yet not too hot, the smell of trodden turf was pleasant in the air, the river sparkled and gurgled beside us; the chimneys of Poundlick sent up languid spires of blue smoke; its yellow and pink and white houses became poetic in the September haze. The first delicate pangs of hunger were stealing upon us, and I felt reasonably certain that nothing necessary to our welfare had been forgotten. I lit a cigarette and pulled my cap over my eyes, and listened to a lark, spiring, like the smoke, into the blue, while my wife clattered in the luncheon basket. It was a moment of entire well-being, overshadowed only by the prospect of having to take an interest in the racing.
I said as much to Dr. Fraser, who was dismembering a cold chicken with almost awful surgical dexterity.
"You must wake up for our race," she said. "I'll call you in time."
"Must I? I hope you're going to ride."
"Heaven forfend!" replied Dr. Fraser. "Nothing more spirited than a weight-carrying bicycle! I'm not in the least horsey. Meg was dying to ride, but as we bought the pony from the great Lyney, and he had won any number of races on her, he was distinctly indicated."