“And what talk, Hilton! What a study! The proper study of mankind is man. How much better than devoting all your attention to dogs and horses!”
“‘How noble a beast is the horse,’ dear, it said in my first reading-book.”
“Absurd, my love. Pray don’t think of horses any more.”
Sir Hilton winced, and then watched his lady as she moved in a dignified way to the fireplace to rearrange her headgear.
“Going out again, my dear?” said Sir Hilton, for want of something better to say.
“Yes, love. I have ordered the carriage round, to drive over to Hanby.”
“To Hanby, dear?”
“Yes. Mr Browse drove by while I was at the vicarage,” said the lady, in a tone of disgust. “That man is in arrear with his rent for the farm. The vicar said he supposed the man was going to the races, and I am going over to see his wife.”
“For goodness’ sake, don’t go and interfere, my dear,” cried Sir Hilton, anxiously. “It would get talked about so at the Tilborough Market, and spread in all directions.”
“It would not matter, that I see,” said her ladyship, haughtily. “But I was not going to interfere. I might, perhaps, say a word or two of condolence to poor Mrs Browse, and point out how much happier she would be if her husband followed the example of mine.”