Muriel nodded dumbly.
There was a pause.
"Your sister ride?"
Connie made no answer. She was looking through the long windows, from which she could see Clare and Godfrey cantering side by side along the level green of the wet grass.
Mrs. Neale turned again to Muriel.
"You like dogs?"
"Not very much."
"Cats?" flashed Mrs. Neale.
"Fairly, when they're clean."
A withering glance. "Perhaps you like goldfish?"