"I could just as easily fly. Ah, and that reminds me. Winfield, let's go for a ride out in the country. We can get a couple of horses at Bilson's. He has a mad mare that I want to ride. She's a fearful creature, and scarcely any one dares to mount her. I must do something to keep the devil out of me."
"Very well. I'm just in the humour for a gallop; but get some lunch, old man."
"Come on, if you have finished. We can get to Wimbledon Common in an hour—in less than an hour. Then we will give those horses of Bilson's a chance to know what they can do."
"But we must get some riding togs on, old man. You can't go a-riding with a frock coat, and a top hat."
"Oh, I forgot; but that's soon remedied. We can be back by seven or eight o'clock, and by that time there should be—an answer."
A few minutes later, they were on their way towards Wimbledon Common. But for Winfield, Leicester would have galloped through the crowded streets, and more than once he was on the point of resenting his companion's restrictions. When they arrived at the open country, however, he gave his horse rein, and tore across the Common, while Winfield kept close at his heels.
"I wish I could ride to Brighton," said Leicester presently. "This helps me to keep the devil down."
"Why not?" said Winfield.
"I must get back now," he replied. "There will be an answer to my letter. It may be—you see—she is very just."
"What does a man want of women while he has a good horse under him, the open sky above him, and the country all around him?" asked Winfield, with a laugh.