"Not hunting, Miss Clonmell! What on earth is the matter? Have you lost your nerve?"
"No," snapped Lallie, "but I've lost my horse. Dad's in India, as you know; the horses are in Ireland; and I'm staying with friends who don't hunt and won't let me hunt without them."
"Oh, but that's nonsense! Were you going this way--may I walk with you? I've got a little mare here that would carry you perfectly if you would honour me by riding her to-morrow. She has been ridden by a lady, and I believe she has excellent manners and is a good jumper. I'm putting up at the Harrow, the stables are so good. They're just at the back here. Won't you come round and look at the horses and see the little mare? It's not three minutes' walk."
Mr. Ballinger talked fast and eagerly, in short, jerky sentences, as though he were nervous.
"I'd love to see the horses," said Lallie, turning with him into the lane where the stables were, quite forgetful of her good resolutions to "walk with nobody."
"And if you like the look of the mare you'll come out to-morrow?"
"Ah, that's quite another matter. I don't think I can do that. Tony wouldn't like it."
"Why wouldn't Tony, whoever he is, like it?"
"Because he can't come with me."
"And why not?"