“That squabble in the road?” said Percy.  “We shall see two or three more before we reach home.”

“No.  What’s the meaning of a gentleman consorting with a blackguard?” Robert persisted.

“One or the other has discovered an assimilation, I suppose,” Percy gave answer.  “That’s an odd remark on returning from Epsom.  Those who jump into the same pond generally come out the same colour.”

Robert spoke low.

“Has it anything to do with the poor girl, do you think?”

“I told you I declined to think till we were home again.  Confound it, man, have you no idea of a holiday?”

Robert puffed his tobacco-smoke.

“Let’s talk of Mrs. Lovell,” he said.

“That’s not a holiday for me,” Percy murmured but Robert’s mind was too preoccupied to observe the tone, and he asked,—­

“Is she to be trusted to keep her word faithfully this time?”

“Come,” said Percy, “we haven’t betted to-day.  I’ll bet you she will, if you like.  Will you bet against it?”

“I won’t.  I can’t nibble at anything.  Betting’s like drinking.”

“But you can take a glass of wine.  This sort of bet is much the same.  However, don’t; for you would lose.”

“There,” said Robert; “I’ve heard of being angry with women for fickleness, changeableness, and all sorts of other things.  She’s a lady I couldn’t understand being downright angry with, and here’s the reason—­it ain’t a matter of reason at all—­she fascinates me.  I do, I declare, clean forget Rhoda; I forget the girl, if only I see Mrs. Lovell at a distance.  How’s that?  I’m not a fool, with nonsensical fancies of any kind.  I know what loving a woman is; and a man in my position might be ass enough to—­all sorts of things.  It isn’t that; it’s fascination.  I’m afraid of her.  If she talks to me, I feel something like having gulped a bottle of wine.  Some women you have a respect for; some you like or you love; some you despise:  with her, I just feel I’m intoxicated.”

Major Waring eyed him steadily.  He said:  “I’ll unriddle it, if I can, to your comprehension.  She admires you for what you are, and she lets you see it; I dare say she’s not unwilling that you should see it.  She has a worship for bravery:  it’s a deadly passion with her.”

Robert put up a protesting blush of modesty, as became him.  “Then why, if she does me the honour to think anything of me, does she turn against me?”

“Ah! now you go deeper.  She is giving you what assistance she can; at present:  be thankful, if you can be satisfied with her present doings.  Perhaps I’ll answer the other question by-and-by.  Now we enter London, and our day is over.  How did you like it?”

Robert’s imagination rushed back to the downs.

“The race was glorious.  I wish we could go at that pace in life; I should have a certainty of winning.  How miserably dull the streets look; and the people creep along—­they creep, and seem to like it.  Horseback’s my element.”