After this contretemps my mount was more amenable and I determined that nothing should unseat me again. Not being hurt by a fall gives one a sense of exhilaration and I felt ready to face an arm of the sea.
The scattered field were moving aimlessly about, some looking for their second horses, some eating an early sandwich, some in groups laughing and smoking and no one knowing anything about the hounds; I was a little away from the others and wondering—like all amateurs—why we were wasting so much time, when a fine old gentleman on a huge horse came up to me and said, with a sweet smile:
"Do you always whistle out hunting?"
MARGOT: "I didn't know I was whistling … I've never hunted before."
STRANGER: "Is this really the first time you've ever been out with hounds?"
MARGOT: "Yes, it is."
STRANGER: "How wonderfully you ride! But I am sorry to see you have taken a toss."
MARGOT: "I fell off at the first fence, for though I've ridden all my life I've never jumped before."
STRANGER: "Were you frightened when you fell?"
MARGOT: "No, my horse was …"