"Isn't everybody?"
"Of course not. Neither are you really. It is only a mood. Some day
you will succeed in what you seem trying so hard to do, and then you
will be sorry--and perhaps some others!"
"If one could believe that," he murmured.
"Two months ago," she continued, "every one was saying that you had made
up your mind to end your days in the hunting-field. All Melton was
talking about your reckless riding, and your hairbreadth escapes."
"Both shockingly exaggerated," he said, under his breath.
Perhaps; but apart from the papers I have seen people who were out and
who have told me that you rode with absolute recklessness, simply and
purely for a fall, and that you deserved to break your neck a dozen
times over. Then there was your week in Paris with Prince Comfrere, and
now your supper-parties are the talk of London."
"They are justly famed," he answered, gravely, "for you know I brought
home the chef from Voillard's. I am sorry that I cannot ask you to one.
"Don't be ridiculous, Arranmore. Why do you do these things? Does it
amuse you, give you any satisfaction?
"Upon my word I don't know," he answered.
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