“You mean the rider’s too small,” her husband returned. “He’s mounted on his millions.” “Is it really millions?” “Seven or eight, they tell me.” “How disgusting!” It was so that Mrs. Freer usually spoke of the large fortunes of the day. “I wish he’d see us,” she added. “He does see us, but he doesn’t like to look at us. He’s too conscious. He isn’t easy.” “Too conscious of his big horse?” “Yes and of his big fortune. He’s rather ashamed of that.” “This is an odd place to hang one’s head in,” said Mrs. Freer. “I’m not so sure. He’ll find people here richer than himself, and other big horses in plenty, and that will cheer him up. Perhaps too he’s looking for that girl.” “The one we heard about? He can’t be such a fool.” “He isn’t a fool,” said Dexter Freer. “If he’s thinking of her he has some good reason.” “I wonder what Mary Lemon would say,” his wife pursued. “She’d say it was all right if he should do it. She thinks he can do no wrong. He’s immensely fond of her.” “I shan’t be sure of that,” said Mrs. Freer, “if he takes home a wife who’ll despise her.” “Why should the girl despise her? She’s a delightful woman.” “The girl will never know it—and if she should it would make no difference: she’ll despise everything.” “I don’t believe it, my dear; she’ll like some things very much. Every one will be very nice to her.” “She’ll despise them all the more. But we’re speaking as if it were all arranged. I don’t believe in it at all,” said Mrs. Freer. “Well, something of the sort—in this case or in some other—is sure to happen sooner or later,” her husband replied, turning round a little toward the back-water, as it were, formed, near the entrance to the Park, by the confluence of the two great vistas of the Drive and the Row. Our friends had turned their backs, as I have said, to the solemn revolution of wheels and the densely-packed mass of spectators who had chosen that aspect of the show. These spectators were now agitated by a unanimous impulse: the pushing-back of chairs, the shuffle of feet, the rustle of garments and the deepening murmur of voices sufficiently expressed it. Royalty was approaching—royalty was passing—royalty had passed. Mr. Freer turned his head and his ear a little, but failed to alter his position further, and his wife took no notice of the flurry. They had seen royalty pass, all over Europe, and they knew it passed very quickly. Sometimes it came back; sometimes it didn’t; more than once they had seen it pass for the last time. They were veteran tourists and they knew as perfectly as regular attendants at complicated church-services when to get up and when to remain seated. Mr. Freer went on with his proposition. “Some young fellow’s certain to do it, and one of these girls is certain to take the risk. They must take risks over here more and more.” “The girls, I’ve no doubt, will be glad enough; they have had very little chance as yet. But I don’t want Jackson to begin.”