Too many. You saw him? You have been to Remenham House?’ ‘Remenham House? I wish I’d been only to Remenham House. He was staring at her, openly gaping. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. Gianfrancesco had told her about it, how he had played in it as a child with his brothers. “You look more like your old self when you smile,” he remarked. “But I’m afraid you are going to be in a hopeless minority here as regards me. I can't invent; the thing won't come. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. My friends consider it wonderfully faithful.
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