These questions disturbed Prothero. He did not shoot, he did not
hunt, he did not go to Scotland for the grouse, he did not belong,
and Lady Marayne ought to have seen that he did not belong to the
class that does these things.

"You ride much, Mr. Prothero?"

Billy conceived a suspicion that these innocent inquiries were
designed to emphasize a contrast in his social quality. But he
could not be sure. One never could be sure with Lady Marayne. It
might be just that she did not understand the sort of man he was.
And in that case ought he to maintain the smooth social surface
unbroken by pretending as far as possible to be this kind of person,
or ought he to make a sudden gap in it by telling his realities. He
evaded the shooting question anyhow. He left it open for Lady
Marayne and the venerable butler and Sir Godfrey and every one to
suppose he just happened to be the sort of gentleman of leisure who
doesn't shoot. He disavowed hunting, he made it appear he travelled
when he travelled in directions other than Scotland. But the fourth
question brought him to bay. He regarded his questioner with his
small rufous eye.

"I have never been across a horse in my life, Lady Marayne."

"Tut, tut," said Sir Godfrey. "Why!--it's the best of exercise.
Every man ought to ride. Good for the health. Keeps him fit.
Prevents lodgments. Most trouble due to lodgments."

"I've never had a chance of riding. And I think I'm afraid of