Row, riding slowly. "That's a beautiful thoroughbred!"
Mrs. Freer asked idle questions only when she wished for time to think. At present she had simply to look and see who it was her husband meant. "The horse is too big," she remarked, in a moment.
"You mean that the rider is too small," her husband rejoined; "he is mounted on his millions."
"Is it really millions?"
"Seven or eight, they tell me."
"How disgusting!" It was in this manner that Mrs. Freer usually spoke of the large fortunes of the day. "I wish he would see us," she added.
"He does see us, but he does n't like to look at us. He is too conscious; he is n't easy."
"Too conscious of his big horse?"
"Yes, and of his big fortune; he is rather ashamed of it."
"This is an odd place to come, then," said Mrs. Freer.
"I am not sure of that. He will find people here richer than himself, and other big horses in plenty, and that will cheer him up. Perhaps, too, he is looking for that girl."
"The one we heard about? He can't be such a fool."
"He isn't a fool," said Dexter Freer. "If he is thinking of her, he has some good reason."
"I wonder what Mary Lemon would say."
"She would say it was right, if he should do it. She thinks he can do no wrong. He is exceedingly fond of her."
