'Won't you come to the tent?' I asked a little ruefully, eyeing the
distance and the possible collisions between, but she shook her
head.

'I simply couldn't bear it,' she said, and I went feeling somehow
chastened myself by the cloud that was upon her spirit.

I found her on my return regarding the scene with a more than
usually critical eye, and a more than usually turned down lip. Yet
it was exactly the scene it always was, and always, probably, will
be. I sat down beside her and regarded it also, but more charitably
than usual. Perhaps it was rather trivial, just a lot of pretty
dresses and excited young men in white riding-breeches doing foolish
things on ponies in the shortest possible time, with one little
crowd about the Club's refreshment tent and another about the
Staff's, while the hills sat round in an indifferent circle; but it
appealed to me with a kind of family feeling that afternoon, and
inspired me with tolerance, even benevolence.

'After all,' I said, 'it's mainly youth and high spirits--two good
things. And one knows them all.'

'And who are they to know?' complained Dora.

'Just decent young Englishmen and Englishwomen, out here on their
country's business,' I replied cheerfully; 'with the marks of Oxford
and Cambridge and Sandhurst and Woolwich on the men. Well-set-up
youngsters, who know what to do and how to do it. Oh, I like the
breed!'