"For lo! the winter is past, and the rain is over and gone!"—The Bible.
"That's Lady Hickle!"
The two men turned in their saddles as Leonie went by at a canter near the rails.
The raking great waler forging ahead like an engine of destruction was kept in check by Leonie, exuberant with health, the knowledge of a perfect seat and hands, and that uprush of spirits which an early ride on the Maidan brings—to some of us.
"Not the Lady Hickle?"
"The same!"
"Well, I'm damned! she's only a girl, and what a seat! Chucked the millions, too, didn't she? Having a good time?"
John Thorne frowned as he backed his horse before answering.
"We're great friends," he said shortly, and the other man tapped his teeth with his whip.
Thorne hadn't the slightest intention of implanting a snub, as the other man knew, knowing him and his most unfortunate manner.