Dick was right; but horseflesh did not make for Art as she understood it.
'You're very nice sometimes, but you're very foolish more times.

I'm not going to let you give me horses, or take you out of your way to-night.
I'll go home by myself.

Only I want you to promise me something.

You won't think any more about that extra threepence, will you?
Remember, you've been paid; and I won't allow you to be spiteful and do bad work for a little thing like that.

You can be so big that you mustn't be tiny.' This was turning the tables with a vengeance.