“Nonsense. She will be like a lamb with you.”
“But my wife; she wouldn’t—”
“Oh!” cried Lady Tilborough, stamping, and lashing the air with her whip. “Divorce your wife.”
“She’d divorce me.”
“And a good job too! You must come and ride the mare.”
“I can’t—I can’t.”
“You must, Hilt.”
“Out of training. Too heavy.”
“Not a bit of it. You’re as fine as can be, and will want weight. You look as thin as if you’d been fretting.”
“I have been, woman; I have.”