’ ‘The horse?’ echoed Melusine. Miss Moffatt, the history and moral instruction mistress, was particularly explicit upon this score, and they all agreed in indicating contempt and pity for girls whose minds ran on such matters, and who betrayed it in their conversation or dress or bearing. She parted the curtains to find him standing there. And Miss Miniver began to sway her. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips.
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