After all, she had as much right to express herself as he purposed to take for himself; and Midmore believed strongly in the fullest equality of the sexes.
That retirement made one small ripple in the strenuous world. The lady who had written the twelve-page letter ten months before sent him another of eight pages, analysing all the motives that were leading her back to him—should she come?—now that he was ill and alone. Much might yet be retrieved, she said, out of the waste of jarring lives and piteous misunderstandings. It needed only a hand.
But Midmore needed two, next morning very early, for a devil's diversion, among wet coppices, called 'cubbing.'
'You haven't a bad seat,' said Miss Sperrit through the morning-mists. 'But you're worrying him.'
'He pulls so,' Midmore grunted.
'Let him alone, then. Look out for the branches,' she shouted, as they whirled up a splashy ride. Cubs were plentiful. Most of the hounds attached themselves to a straight-necked youngster of education who scuttled out of the woods into the open fields below.
'Hold on!' some one shouted. 'Turn 'em, Midmore. That's your brute Sidney's land. It's all wire.'
'Oh, Connie, stop!' Mrs. Sperrit shrieked as her daughter charged at a boundary-hedge.
'Wire be damned! I had it all out a fortnight ago. Come on!' This was Midmore, buffeting into it a little lower down.
