There was therefore plenty of opportunity for the Senator to inquire whether the gentlemen around him were as yet enjoying their sport.

There was an air of triumph about him as to the misfortunes of the day, joined to a battery of continued raillery, which made it almost impossible for Morton to keep his temper.

He asked whether it was not at any rate better than trotting a pair of horses backwards and forwards over the same mile of road for half the day, as is the custom in the States.
But the Senator, though he did not quite approve of trotting matches, argued that there was infinitely more of skill and ingenuity in the American pastime.

"Everybody is so gloomy," said the Senator, lighting his third cigar.

"I've been watching that young man in pink boots for the last half hour, and he hasn't spoken a word to any one." "Perhaps he's a stranger," said Morton.
"And that's the way you treat him!" It was past two when the hounds were put into the gorse, and certainly no one was in a very good humour.