"Do you mind my noticing? Denis always lets me fuss if he cuts his
finger or anything like that."
"I was riding this morning," the words seemed to be dragged from him
against his will; "I expect I overdid it."
Her pretty eyes opened wide.
"You needn't think I'm just a weakly idiot," he burst out angrily.
"I don't. You've had an illness?"
He nodded.
She sighed suggestively. He looked at her, and smiled unwillingly.
"It was nearly six months ago now." He frowned and paused.
"Accident--horse had to be shot."
"Oh!" She waited.
"It was a beastly motor omnibus--poor old Pilot bolted. We had a
fight--I'd nearly got him under--and a fool of a boy came tearing round
a corner yelling and waving a hoop in the air. Pilot bolted straight
into a shop window--had to be shot."