withered, once rose-leaf hued, now over-coloured by strong weather,
are starry and anxious; whose speech is simple, sympathetic, direct,
a little shy, a little hopeless, yet always hopeful; who are ever
surrounded by children, invalids, old people, all looking to them for
support; who have never known the luxury of breaking down--of these was
Mrs. Hussell Barter, the wife of the Reverend Hussell Barter, who would
shoot to-morrow, but would not attend the race-meeting on the Wednesday.
On her other hand was Gilbert Foxleigh, a lean-flanked man with a long,
narrow head, strong white teeth, and hollow, thirsting eyes. He came of
a county family of Foxleighs, and was one of six brothers, invaluable
to the owners of coverts or young, half-broken horses in days when, as
a Foxleigh would put it, "hardly a Johnny of the lot could shoot or ride
for nuts." There was no species of beast, bird, or fish, that he could
not and did not destroy with equal skill and enjoyment. The only thing
against him was his income, which was very small. He had taken in Mrs.
Brandwhite, to whom, however, he talked but little, leaving her to
General Pendyce, her neighbour on the other side.

Had he been born a year before his brother, instead of a year after,
Charles Pendyce would naturally have owned Worsted Skeynes, and
Horace would have gone into the Army instead. As it was, having almost
imperceptibly become a Major-General, he had retired, taking with him
his pension. The third brother, had he chosen to be born, would have
gone into the Church, where a living awaited him; he had elected
otherwise, and the living had passed perforce to a collateral branch.
Between Horace and Charles, seen from behind, it was difficult to
distinguish. Both were spare, both erect, with the least inclination to
bottle shoulders, but Charles Pendyce brushed his hair, both before and
behind, away from a central parting, and about the back of his still
active knees there was a look of feebleness. Seen from the front they