visibly as she
uttered the name, "is coming, and he is a /very/ good shot and /very/
conceited about it. I want you to beat him if you can--will you try?"

"Well," said Harold, "I don't at all like shooting against a man. It
is not sportsmanlike, you know; and, besides, if Mr. Cossey is a crack
shot, I daresay that I shall be nowhere; but I will shoot as well as I
can."

"Do you know, it is very feminine, but I would give anything to see
you beat him?" and she nodded and laughed, whereupon Harold Quaritch
vowed in his heart that if it in him lay he would not disappoint her.

At that moment Edward Cossey's fast trotting horse drew up at the door
with a prodigious crunching of gravel, and Edward himself entered,
looking very handsome and rather pale. He was admirably dressed, that
is to say, his shooting clothes were beautifully made and very new-
looking, and so were his boots, and so was his hat, and so were his
hammerless guns, of which he brought a pair. There exists a certain
class of sportsmen who always appear to have just walked out of a
sporting tailor's shop, and to this class Edward Cossey belonged.
Everything about him was of the best and newest and most expensive
kind possible; even his guns were just down from a famous maker, and
the best that could be had for love or money, having cost exactly a
hundred and forty guineas the pair. Indeed, he presented a curious
contrast to his rival. The Colonel had certainly nothing new-looking
about /him/; an old tweed coat, an old hat, with a piece of gut still
twined round it, a sadly frayed bag full of brown cartridges, and,
last of all, an old gun with the brown worn off the barrels, original
cost, 17 pounds 10s. And yet there was no possibility of making any
mistake as to which of the two looked more of a gentleman, or, indeed,
more of a sportsman.

Edward Cossey shook hands with Ida, but when the Colonel was advancing
to give him his hand, he turned and spoke to the Squire, who had at
length finished his letter, so that no greeting was passed between
them. At the time Harold did not know if this move was or was not
accidental.

Presently they started, Edward Cossey attended by his man with the
second gun.

"Hullo! Cossey," sang out the Squire after him, "it isn't any use
bringing your two guns for this sort of work. I don't preserve much
here, you know, at least not now. You will only get a dozen cock
pheasants and a few brace of partridges."

"Oh, thank y