She relinquished them and also the whip, but said disarmingly, “To be sure, that was not very well done of me, but you will own that there was no bearing your conduct in talking to me as though I were a silly chit scarcely able to drive a donkey.”
Mr. Rivenhall’s impatient mouth was once more set so rigidly that there seemed to be no likelihood of his owning anything at all.
“At least admit that I am able to handle your pair!” said Sophy.
“Well for you that I had taken the edge off them!” he retorted.
“How ungenerous of you!” said Sophy.
It was indeed ungenerous, and he knew it. He said furiously, “Driving about the City, with not even a groom beside you! Very pretty behavior, upon my word! It is a pity you have not a little more conduct, Cousin! Or are these Portuguese manners?”
“Oh, no!” she replied. “In Lisbon, where I am known, I could not indulge in such pranks, of course. Dreadful, was it not? I assure you, all the Cits were staring at me! But do not put yourself into a pucker on that head! No one knows me in London!”
“No doubt,” he said sardonically, “Sir Horace would have applauded such behavior!”
“No,” said Sophy. “I think that Sir Horace would have rather expected you to have offered to let me drive your horses. Just so that you could have judged for yourself whether I was capable of handling a spirited pair,” she explained kindly.
“I let no one — no one — drive my horses but myself!”