"Do you ride?"
She nodded.
"Yes. I thought of riding him sometimes. Does he ride all right?"
"Oh, he's quiet enough. But if you want to hunt next winter, you must let
me mount you." His glance rested on her slim, boyish contours. "I've a
little thoroughbred mare up at Heronsmere--Redwing, she's called--who would
carry you perfectly."
"Oh, I couldn't--you mustn't--" she began with some embarrassment.
"Nonsense!" He interrupted her brusquely. "What are you going to do down
here if you don't ride and drive? Lovell will have his work. But you
won't."
"I'm proposing to keep chickens," announced Ann. "I'm not in the least an
idle person. You lose the habit if you've earned your own living for
several years," she added, with a touch of amusement.
"Have you done that?"
She assented.
"Of course I have. You can't live on air, you know, and as my father didn't
leave us much else, Robin and I both had to work."
He regarded her with brooding eyes. She was so gay and cheery about it all
that, against his will, his thoughts were driven back amongst old memories,
recalling another woman he had known who had chosen to escape from poverty
by a different road from the clean, straight one of hard work.
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