“Is that his name? Yes, I like him immensely. Thank you so much for sending him.” She paused, then added rather shyly: “I always seem to be thanking you for something, don’t I? First for rescuing my bag at the Kursaal, then for rescuing me, and now for Dick Turpin!”
“You can’t do without a cob”—briefly. “Do you ride?”
She nodded.
“Yes. I thought of riding him sometimes. Does he ride all right?”
“Oh, he’s quiet enough. But if you want to hunt next winter, you must let me mount you.” His glance rested on her slim, boyish contours. “I’ve a little thoroughbred mare up at Heronsmere—Redwing, she’s called—who would carry you perfectly.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—you mustn’t—” she began with some embarrassment.
“Nonsense!” He interrupted her brusquely. “What are you going to do down here if you don’t ride and drive? Lovell will have his work. But you won’t.”
“I’m proposing to keep chickens,” announced Ann. “I’m not in the least an idle person. You lose the habit if you’ve earned your own living for several years,” she added, with a touch of amusement.
“Have you done that?”
She assented.