“Well, all the best is over, and there’s no fun in sticking through it to the end. I want to speak to Lucas over there about his pony.”
“Is that the polo man?”
“Yes.”
“And are you going in for polo?”
“Not unlikely. If I do, I shall do the thing thoroughly, and his is about the only pony I fancy.”
“I shouldn’t think he’d care to part with it.”
“So they say.”
Something in his tone told her that in the difficulty lay the attraction. They walked across the broken ground to the spot where young Lucas stood, and he laughed the suggestion to scorn.
“Sell Tommy!” he said. “My dear fellow, not if I know it!”
“Well, if you should—”