"Of course I should. I love to see you with horses. You and the trap and the horse seem to be as much one mechanism as a motor-car."
"I can make a horse do what I want," he said, delighted at the compliment. "We'll take the dog-cart. When will you come? This morning?"
"Yes--let us say eleven. It will be lovely."
"I'll have it round at eleven o'clock. You'll see. She's a flyer."
"So am I," she said with a laugh, and pointed to the front gate, which a garden lad had just run to open to admit a young man on horseback.
"Oh, lord! it's Banstead," said Dick with a groan.
"Au revoir--eleven o'clock," said Viviette, and she fled.
Lord Banstead dismounted, gave his horse to the lad, and came up to Dick. He was an unhealthy, dissipated-looking young man, with lustreless eyes, a characterless chin, and an underfed moustache. He wore a light blue hunting stock, fastened by a ruby fox in full gallop, and a round felt hat with a very narrow flat brim, beneath which protruded strands of Andrew aguecheek hair.
"Hallo, Banstead," said Dick, not very cordially.
"Hallo," said the other, halting before the rose-bed, where Dick was tying up some blooms with bast. He watched him for a moment or two. Conversation was not spontaneous.