Valerie decided as she looked after him that though his manners might be a little unæsthetic she would not have any difficulty with his spirit.
She found him equally reasonable when she approached him on the subject of keeping a horse, which was to be her only luxury. She had already spoken to Roger Benton about one he was willing to sell.
Mac talked in staccato sentences guarding his words.
“You’d better graze it. Just give it a feed when you ride it. It can go in my paddock. Two bob a week. That’s my charge. Michael will fetch it when you want it. Or you can get it yourself. You can pay for feeds as you get ’em. Shilling a feed.”
“And if I’m out late may I put it in the stable myself without troubling anybody?”
“Any bloody time you want,” he said, relapsing into spontaneity.
