“If he isn’t, why does he stick on here so long without bringing off his great splash? He says it’s because of the Christmas holidays, but a trifle like that wouldn’t keep him quiet generally. My idea is that he means to make sure of her before breaking with me.”
“But she would have nothing to do with him in any case if he broke with you.”
“You think so? Well, we shall see.”
CHAPTER VII.
NONE BUT THE BRAVE.
“Really, Mab,” said Dick irritably, “your horses are more bother than they are worth. Why don’t you set up a motor-car?”
“How horrid you are, Dick! Any one would think it was my fault that all these things happen. How could I help one of the other horses’ kicking Majnûn as they were coming back from watering? I am sure it was that wretched Bayard of yours—cross old thing! At any rate, the syce declares it’s impossible for Majnûn to go out to-day, and I can see it myself. You can go round and look at the state his leg is in.”
“Oh, all right; I’ll take your word for it. But what are you going to do?”
“The syce’s sole idea is to send down to Mr Anstruther’s for Laili, but I don’t care to ride her again just yet.”
“No, I certainly won’t have you mount her until Anstruther can give a better report of her proceedings. Well, you had better take Georgie’s old Simorgh, as she and I are to do Darby and Joan in the dog-cart.”
“He’s so horribly and aggressively meek. I don’t want a horse whose sole title to distinction is that in prehistoric days he carried his mistress to Kubbet-ul-Haj and back without once running away. I am going to ride Roy, Dick.”