Balloons

he said. "To feel that you are leaving land behind you and your friends and your relations and your duties and what are called your pleasures. To be free," she murmured. "There's nothing like horses," he said. "Their very smell does you good. An hour's gallop before breakfast in summer, a twenty minutes' run with the hounds in winter " A week later they were engaged to be married. I wondered whether he would take to yachting or she to riding or both to golf. I didn't see them for five years. And then, I met her at Melton. She had taken a house for the winter. "So he won," I reflected to myself. "Have you done much yachting lately?" I asked her. "Yachting?" she said, "why it's my idea of hell. I'm the worst sailor in the world. A sea as calm as a pond finishes me." "How is your husband?" I murmured weakly. "Is he coming down here to hunt?" "Tommy?" she laughed. "Why he's never known a horse from a cow." IV "DO YOU REMEMBER ?" [To Leslie Hartley] THERE are so many delightful things about being a bride besides actual happiness, little peaks of pleasure that gradually sink into the level of existence, unimportant, all-important things that never come again. To begin with, there is your wedding ring which keeps glistening up at you, unexpectedly making such an absurd difference, not only to the look of your hand but to everything else, as well. And there are your trunks, shiny and untrav- elled, with glaring new initials almos...