He had been talking of selling
Chowton within the last week or two. He had been thinking of
selling it at the moment when Mr. Masters rode up to him. And yet
now he was almost tempted to a new purchase by this man. But the
man was too utterly a blackguard,--was too odious to him.
"If it comes into the market, I may bid for it as well as another,"
he said, "but I wouldn't let myself down to have any dealings with
you."
"Then, Mr. Larry, you shall never have a sod of it," said Goarly,
dropping himself over the fence on to his own field.
A few minutes afterwards Larry met Bean, and told him that Goarly
had been in the wood. "If I catch him, Mr. Twentyman, I'll give him
sore bones," said Bean. "I wonder how he ever got back to his own
place alive that day." Then Bean asked Larry whether he meant to be
at the meet to-morrow, and Larry said that he thought he should.
"Tony's almost afraid to bring them in even yet," said Bean; "but
if there's a herring left in this wood, I'll eat it myself--
strychnine and all."
After that Larry went and looked at his horses, and absolutely gave
his mare "Bicycle" a gallop round the big grass field himself. Then
those who were about the place knew that something had happened,
and that he was in a way to be cured. "You'll hunt to-morrow, won't
you, Larry?" said his mother affectionately.
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