THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE
upon their dialogue, but they picked up the threads quickly.
"Nearly every morning."
"What kind of a horse?"
"Lively. I like to feel that I am master of a strong horse."
May I ride with you some morning?"
I shall be very glad to have you. It's twice as much fun with a companion. Even the horses seem to enjoy it more. I ride from nine until eleven. The stable is near by."
"I'll be around to-morrow morning, nine sharp."
Her unaffectedness was a delight to him. Breeding, real breeding, emanated from her with the subtle perfume of an old-fashioned rose. She possessed none of those coy airs, that false reluctance, which hallmarked most of the women he had known. She frankly liked this or that, or didn't. And always there was the recurrence of the amazing thought—she lived in his house!
A hand touched his shoulder lightly, and he turned his head. Standing behind the lounge and smiling down at him was the woman who had driven him forth—and
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