"Damnation!" said John Thorne as Leonie patted the Devil's neck as he danced nervously on one spot.
"Time I took him home," she said. "The syce?—no! I daren't give him to anyone as he is—oh! good morning——
"Saw your haute école stunt, Lady Hickle," burst out a lad who rode a fallen star in the shape of a discarded discreditable polo pony. "Simply topping—but the Devil's a nervy demon, you shouldn't ride him—he'll get away with you one of these fine days. What happened?"
"He bumped into my horse, he's not safe to be out amongst us—indeed, he is not. Lady Hickle, I have been in Cat——"
The rest was lost in precipitate flight with the colonel mem-sahib's arms closely hugging her pony's neck, to the joy and the infinite delight of the rest of the spectators.
Unseen, uncouth John Thorne, furious at the scant courtesy shown to the lady of his dreams, had brought his whip down heftily, just above the mangy tail of the colonel mem's pony.
"I think I'll ride alone, if you don't mind," said Leonie with a ripple of suppressed laughter in her voice.
"All the way to Alipore?"
"Oh! it's not far, and I daren't trust the syce, the Devil would simply eat him."
The boy sidled in between her and Thorne, to the latter's infinite annoyance.