“I’m afraid I can’t offer to ride over her, or incite hounds to tear her to pieces in mistake for a fox,” said Clovis; “I should earn your undying devotion, but there would be a wearisome fuss about it, and I should have to hunt with another pack in future, and that would be dreadfully inconvenient.”

“As your mother says, you are a mass of selfishness,” commented Vera.

An opportunity for being unselfish occurred to Clovis a day or two later, when he found himself at close quarters with Jocelyn near Bludberry Gate, where hounds were drawing a long woody hollow in search of an elusive fox.

“Scent is poor, and there’s an interminable amount of cover,” grumbled Clovis from his saddle; “we shall be here for hours before we get a fox away.”

“All the more time for you to talk to me,” said Jocelyn archly.