Althea, however, didn't find it a bore.

Her companions talked now, their heads at the windows; it had been years since they had traversed that country together; every inch of it was known to them and significant of weary waits, wonderful runs, feats and misadventures at gates and ditches; for their reminiscences were mainly sportsmanlike.

Althea listened, absorbed, but distressed.

It was Gerald who caught and interpreted the expression of her large, gentle eyes.
'I don't believe you like fox-hunting, Miss Jakes,' he said.
'No, indeed, I do not,' said Althea, shaking her head.
'You mean you think it cruel ?' 'Very cruel.' 'Yet where would we be without it ?' said Gerald.

'And where would the foxes be?
After all, while they live, their lives are particularly pleasant.' 'With possible intervals of torture?
Don't you think that, if they could choose, they would rather not live at all ?' 'Oh, a canny old fox doesn't mind the run so much, you know--enjoys it after a fashion, no doubt.' 'Don't salve your conscience by that sophism, Gerald; the fox is canny because he has been terrified so often,' said Helen.