Lord Rockminster admires her tremendously, but he's too lazy to say so,
I suppose. How has she taken such a fancy to you?"
"I was not aware she had," Lionel discreetly made answer, though the
question had startled him, and not with pain.
"Oh, yes, she has. Did she think you were lone and unprotected, being
persecuted by the rest of us? I am quite certain she wouldn't allow my
brother Percy to go fishing a whole day with her; most likely Lord
Rockminster wouldn't care to take the trouble. I wonder if she hasn't a
bit of a temper? Lady Rosamund is awful sometimes; but she doesn't show
that to _you_--catch her! But Honnor Cunyngham--well, the only time I
ever went with her on one of her storking expeditions, the water was
low, and she thrashed away for hours, and saw nothing. At last a stot
happened to come wandering along; and she said, quite savagely, 'I'm
going to hook something!' You don't know what a stot is?--it's a young
bullock. So she deliberately walked to within twenty yards or so of the
animal, threw the line so that it just dropped across its neck, and the
fly caught in the thick hair. You should have seen the gay performance
that followed! The beast shook its head and shook its head--for it could
feel the line, if it couldn't feel the fly; and then, getting alarmed,
it started off up the hill, with the reel squealing just as if a salmon
were on, and Honnor running after him as hard as she could over the
bracken and heather.
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