't know, and he won't know, and nothing must be said, of
course. It's only for five days, Val."

"Stable secret! Righto!" If Holly thought it safe, it was. Glancing
slyly round at him, she said: "Did you notice how beautifully she asked
herself?"

"No!"

"Well, she did. What do you think of her, Val?"

"Pretty, and clever; but she might run out at any corner if she got her
monkey up, I should say."

"I'm wondering," Holly murmured, "whether she is the modern young
woman. One feels at sea coming home into all this."

"You? You get the hang of things so quick."

Holly slid her hand into his coat-pocket.

"You keep one in the know," said Val, encouraged. "What do you think of
that Belgian fellow, Profond?"

"I think he's rather 'a good devil.'"

Val grinned.

"He seems to me a queer fish for a friend of our family. In fact, our
family is in pretty queer waters, with Uncle Soames marrying a
Frenchwoman, and your dad marrying Soames's first. Our grandfathers
would have had fits!"

"So would anybody's, my dear."

"This car," said Val suddenly, "wants rousing; she doesn't get her hind
legs under her up-hill. I shall have to give her her head on the slope
if I'm to catch that train."

There was that about horses which had prevented him from ever really
sympathising with a car, and the running of the Ford under his
guidance, compared with its running under that of Holly, was always
noticeable. He caught the train.

"Take care going home; she'll throw you down if she can. Good-bye,
darling."

"Good-bye," called Holly, and kissed her hand.

In the train, after quarter of an hour's indecision between thoughts of
Holly, his morning paper, the look of the bright day, and his dim
memory of Newmarket, Val plunged into the recesses of a small square
book, all names, pedigrees, tap-roots, and notes about the make and
shape of horses. The Forsyte in him was bent on the acquisition of a
certain strain of blood, and he was subduing resolutely as yet the
Dartie hankering for a flutter. On getting back to England, after the
profitable sale of his South African farm and stud, and observing that
the sun seldom shone, Val had said to himself: "I've absolutely got to
have an interest in life, or this country will give me the blues.
Hunting's not enough, I'll breed and I'll train." With just that extra
pinch of shrewdness and decision imparted by long residence in a new
country, Val had seen the weak point of modern breedin