190 THE SILVER FOX 



Lady Susan was sitting on an outside car 

 by the rails, never taking her eyes off the 

 game. 



*' I call that a brute of a pony," she said, 

 *' don't you, Captain Onslow ? " to a man 

 who stood by the car. *' I mean the roan 

 that my husband is on. Look there " — as 

 the ball went skipping over the sunny sward, 

 with the roan pony and his rider heading 

 the rush after it — ''see how he's pulling, 

 and if he gets his temper up he bolts, and 

 there's no holding him. I can't bear to see 

 Hughie on him." 



" I don't think you need be anxious about 

 your husband," said Captain Onslow, in- 

 wardly a little piqued by this excessive 

 attention to the game and its dangers, 

 " that pony's about the best on the ground 

 when he's properly j)layed, and that's just 

 what is happening to him. Well hit, in- 

 deed!" as Hugh turned the ball with a 

 smooth and clean back-hander. 



" I don't care," murmured Lady Susan, 

 " I call polo a beastly dangerous game." 



