"As keen as ever," said Barnaby, with conviction.
"Does your wife ride?"
The question sounded maladroit; it was inconceivable that Barnaby should have married a wife who did not. His hesitation was singular in their eyes; they all stopped to listen.
"I really don't know," he said.
In the general burst of laughter Susan caught his glance of amused consternation. In that hard-riding company his ignorance was incredible. Men, having a curious predilection towards the unsuitable in wives, he might, after all, have committed that inconceivable piece of folly. Barnaby's wife might lamentably turn out incapable of sitting on a horse. But that Barnaby should not know—!
It was while they were all laughing at him that Susan became aware of Julia Kelly.
She was on the same side of the table as herself, placed far from the lion of the occasion; and was leaning her elbows on the table, looking full at Susan. The man between them was sitting back in his chair roaring helplessly at the joke.
"What an ignorant husband, Mrs. Hill," said Julia, and her musical voice vibrated through the laughter. "Do you ride?"
"I have ridden," said Susan quietly. It was difficult for her to blot the memory of an encounter that the other woman ignored.
"But not with him?"