De Rothan drew himself up dramatically.
"Meester Benham, I do not permit myself or others to pass beyond mere jesting words."
"Very good, sir, then keep clear of the facts. You have thrashed us, and we have thrashed you. Though I think we can count three Blenheims to one Fontenoy."
De Rothan made a gesture as though he would lay a hand on a sword.
"I do not quarrel, Meester Benham, when ladies are present. Insult me some other day."
"With pleasure," said Jasper, and rode on in a black rage.
He had not gone more than a hundred yards when two smart horses drawing a green curricle came into view. A whip was held slantingly at a professional angle. The sea-breeze played with the reddish curls under the big bonnet.
Jasper blasphemed under his breath. Cousin Rose was the very last creature he desired to meet that morning.
She drew up, with a heightened colour and a shallow glitter of the eyes. The woman had dash, and a certain audacity in her methods of attack.
"You see, Jasper, I had not run away. What a reprieve for us all. We should thank God from our hearts."