Miss Westonhaugh was there in her gray habit
and broad hat, and by her side, on foot, Lord Steepleton Kildare was
making the most of his time, as he waited for the rest of the players.
Mr. Currie Ghyrkins was ambling about on his broad little horse, and
John Westonhaugh stood with his hands in his pockets and a large
Trichinopoli cheroot between his lips, apparently gazing into space.
Several other men, more or less known to us and to each other, moved
about or chatted disconnectedly, and one or two arrived after us. Some
of them wore coloured jerseys that showed brightly over the open collars
of their coats, others were in ordinary dress and had come to see the
game. Farther off, at one side of the ground, one or two groups of
ladies and their escorting cavaliers haunted at a short distance by
their saices in many-coloured turbans and belts, or _cummer-bunds,_ as
the sash is called in India, moved slowly about, glancing from time to
time towards the place where the players and their ponies were preparing
for the contest.
Few games require so little preparation and so few preliminaries as
polo, descended as it is from an age when more was thought of good
horsemanship and quick eye than of any little refinements depending on
an accurate knowledge of fixed rules.
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