"It often threatens like
that when it means nothing. You may get a perfectly dry, still day after
all. And, Mr. Moore, may I ask you if what you said about your shooting
yesterday afternoon was entirely true or only a bit of modesty?"
"If it comes to that," he said, "I never shot a grouse in my life--no,
nor ever shot _at_ one."
"Because," she continued, with a certain hesitation which was indeed far
removed from her usual manner, "because you--you seem rather sensitive
to criticism--to other people's opinion--and if you wouldn't think it
impertinent of me to offer you some hints--well, for what they are
worth--"
"But I should be immensely grateful!" he answered at once.
"Well," she said, in an undertone, so that no one should overhear, "you
know, on the Twelfth, with such still weather as we have had for the
last week or two, the birds are never wild; you needn't be in the least
anxious; you won't be called upon for snap-shots at all; you can afford
to take plenty of time and get well on to the birds before you fire. You
see, you will be in the middle; you will take any bird that gets up in
front of you; my brother and Captain Waveney will take the outside ones
and the awkward cross-shots.
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