"
She gave a muffled laugh.
"Of course I shouldn't want you to do that."
"Or," proceeded Rivington, "I would hire an animal to draw the caravan,
and we would go for a holiday in the forest. Would it bore you?"
"I don't think so," she said, without looking at him. "I--I could
sketch, you know, and you could paint."
"To be sure," he said. "Shall we do that, then?"
She began to split the straw with minute care.
"You think there is no danger of--Dinghra?" she said, after a moment.
Rivington smiled grimly, and got to his feet. "Not the smallest," he
said.
"He might come back," she persisted. "What if--what if he tried to
murder you?"
Rivington was coaxing his pipe back to life. He accomplished his object
before he replied. Then:
"You need not have the faintest fear of that," he said. "Dinghra has had
the advantage of a public-school education. He has doubtless been
thrashed before."
"He is vindictive," she objected.
"He may be, but he is shrewd enough to know when the game is up.
Frankly, Chirpy, I don't think the prospect of pestering you, or even of
punishing me, will induce him to take the field again after we are
married. No"--he smiled down at her--"I think I have cooled his ardour
too effectually for that."
She shuddered.
"I shall never forget it."
He patted her shoulder reassuringly.
"I think you will, Chirpy. Or at least you will place it in the same
category as the bull incident.
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