They had fallen into the fashion of their friends of late, and were more like the normal semi-detached couple than the boy and girl lovers upon whose bliss Lady Susan had loved to expatiate.
When the Goodwood week came round in this third year with the inexorable regularity that one finds in the events of the season, Vera declared that she had had enough of Goodwood and would never go there again.
"Of course, that won't prevent your being there," she said.
"Well, not exactly, when I have Iseult of Ireland in two races."
"Yes, of course, you must be there. I forgot."
"You seem always to forget my horses nowadays. Yet you were once so keen about them."
"They were very interesting at first, poor, sweet things, but the fonder I was of them, the more cruel it seemed to race them."
"You'd like them kept to look at, eh?"
"I should like to sit with them in their boxes, and feed them with sugar, and make them lie down with their heads in my lap."
"A Lady Rarey!"