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doubted the authenticity of those enjoyments. My
immature mind, as was natural, conjectured some-
thing magical in such allurements of prosperity. It
was the spectacle of vivid life, and I was young to it.

As for the Packlestone people and their London
season—well, it is just possible that they weren't quite
as brilliant as I imagined. Ascot, Lords, a few
dances and theatres, dull dinner-parties, one or two
visits to the Opera—that was about all. Since I have
grown older I have heard the hollow echoes in that
social apparatus; but at that time I was only aware
that it was an appropriate sequel to the smoothly
moving scene in which I was involved. It was a
contrast, also, to the rigorous routine of life at the
Kennels. All this contributed to a feeling of finality
in my proceedings.

The hunting season ended with an ironic glory at
the point-to-points, where the inestimable Cockbird
managed to win the Heavy Weight Race after Denis
had set him an example in the Light Weights. Every-
one agreed that it was a great day for the Kennels,
and a couple of weeks afterwards I was back at

I had been away from Aunt Evelyn for nearly seven
months. I found it none too easy to tell her all about
my eventful absence from the quiet background which
awaited my return. Everything was just the same
as ever at Butley; and as such it was inevitable that
I found it monotonous. Sadly I sold my brilliant
chestnut for thirty-six guineas at Tattersalls. He was
bought by a Belgian officer. I couldn't bring myself
to part with any of the others; neither could I discuss
my sporting future with Dixon, although he was
undoubtedly aware of my difficulties. After an un-
palatable interview with Mr. Pennett I succeeded in