“Wragby doesn’t wink an eyelid!” he said. “But then why should it! I ride upon the achievements of the mind of man, and that beats a horse.”

“I suppose it does. And the souls in Plato riding up to heaven in a two-horse chariot would go in a Ford car now,” she said.

“Or a Rolls-Royce: Plato was an aristocrat!”

“Quite! No more black horse to thrash and maltreat. Plato never thought we’d go one better than his black steed and his white steed, and have no steeds at all, only an engine!”

“Only an engine and gas!” said Clifford.

“I hope I can have some repairs done to the old place next year. I think I shall have about a thousand to spare for that: but work costs so much!” he added.

“Oh, good!” said Connie. “If only there aren’t more strikes!”