"But country people take a very limited view of a Londoner. We do sometimes get out of town, you know—and some of us can ride and play games quite nicely! As a matter of fact I hunted when I was about six."
Roger's face lightened, eagerly.
"Oh, then I hope you're staying at Mallow till the hunting season starts? I've a lovely mare I could lend you if you'd let me."
Nan shook her head and made a hasty gesture of dissent.
"Oh, no, no. Quite honestly, I've not ridden for years—and even if I took up riding once more I should never hunt again. I think"—she shrank a little—"it's too cruel."
Trenby regarded her with ingenuous amazement.
"Cruel!" he exclaimed. "Why, it's sport!"
"Magic word!" Nan's lips curled a little. "You say it's 'sport' as though that made it all right."
"So it does," answered Trenby contentedly.
"It may—for the sportsman. But as far as the fox is concerned, it's sheer cruelty."