She had been staring out over the hills and wondering if that was the church above Barham that she could almost see against the horizon.
"Oh! any time up to lunch," she said vaguely.
Dick stood up slowly with a satisfied air and stretched himself.

He looked very complete and trim, thought Jenny, from his flat cap to his beautifully-spatted shooting-boots.

(It was twelve hundred a year, at least, wasn't it ?) "Well, I suppose we shall be moving directly," he said.
* * * * * A beater came up bringing the mare just before the start was made.
"All right, you can leave her," said Jenny.

"I won't mount yet.

Just hitch the bridle on to something." It was a pleasant and picturesque sight to see the beaters, like a file of medieval huntsmen, dwindle down the hill in their green and silver in one direction, and, five minutes later, the sportsmen in another.