"Doesn't it?"
"Of course not. No one who could get out of the nine-times would ever dream of acquiring it voluntarily."
"And if they don't do lessons what do they do all day?"
"Express their personalities. They draw things; or make things; or whitewash the coach-house; or dress up, like Antony Toselli. That was Tony on the lion. I teach some of them to ride. They like that. Riding, I mean. I think they are so bored with easy things that they find something a little difficult simply fascinating. But of course it has to be something out of the ordinary. The difficult thing, I mean. If it was a difficulty that everyone was supposed to overcome they wouldn't be interested. That would bring them down to the common level of you and me. They wouldn't be 'different' any longer."
"Nice people."
"Very profitable to Latchetts, anyhow. And here is Latchetts."
Brat's heart rose up into his throat. Eleanor turned slowly into the white gateway between the limes.
It was just as well that she was going slowly, for she had no sooner entered the green tunnel than something like a giant blue butterfly shot out from the boles of the trees and danced wildly in front of the car.
Eleanor braked and swore simultaneously.
"Hullo! Hullo!" shouted the butterfly, dancing to Brat's side of the car.