will call on you, and there are lots of parties. And then there's
hunting.'

'Yes,' said Mrs. Sales. Her eyes left Rose's face, to return a little
wider, a little warier. 'Do you hunt too?'

'As often as I can. I only have one horse.'

'Francis says I am to have two.'

'And they will be good ones. He likes hunting and horses better than
anything else, I suppose.'

'But he mustn't neglect the farm,' his wife said firmly, and she added
slowly, 'I don't know that I need two horses, really. I haven't ridden
much, and there's a lot to do in the house. I don't believe in people
being out all day.'

'Well, you can't hunt all the year round, you know.'

Mrs. Sales let out a sigh so faint that most people would have missed
it. 'It will be beginning soon, won't it?'

'It feels a long way off in weather like this,' Rose said. 'But they
are getting into the carriage. I must go.'

Mrs. Sales lingered for an instant. 'I do hope we're going to be
friends.' This was more than a statement, it was a request, and Rose
shrank from it; but she said lightly, 'We shall be meeting often. You
will see more of us than you will care for, I'm afraid. The Malletts