The things we do!

I'll remember
and get the invitation for your friend. And if you would but try that
mare, I give you my honour I bred her at Codlington. She's a beauty to
look at, and as quiet as a lamb."
"I don't want a horse like a lamb," replied the young lady.
"Well--she'll go like blazes now: and over timber she's splendid now. She
is, upon my honour."
"When I come to London perhaps you may trot her out," said Miss Ethel,
giving him her hand and a fine smile.
Clive came up biting his lips. "I suppose you don't condescend to ride
Bhurtpore any more now?" he said.
"Poor old Bhurtpore! The children ride him now," said Miss Ethel--giving
Clive at the same time a dangerous look of her eyes, as though to see if
her shot had hit. Then she added, "No--he has not been brought up to town
this year: he is at Newcome, and I like him very much." Perhaps she
thought the shot had struck too deep.
But if Clive was hurt he did not show his wound. "You have had him these
four years--yes, it's four years since my father broke him for you.


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