Mostyn felt that peculiar thrill pass through him which was always called forth by her presence. As on a former occasion her Christian name had nearly escaped his lips, but this time he was able to check himself. There was a glitter in the girl's eyes, and her lips were drawn together in a manner which appeared to him rather ominous. It was the first time he had seen her dressed in a riding habit, and he thought how well it became her; at the same time he was glad that she had not abandoned her straw hat, the red poppies of which toned in so well with the dark tresses beneath them. She was looking deliriously pretty, but Mostyn wondered in what mood she would display herself. He had been forced to accept Captain Armitage's assurances about Castor, but, all the same, he had not been wholly satisfied. He remembered her challenge as to winning a Derby, "with some chance of success, too," she had said. Could she have been thinking of Castor?
But of course the colt was his by every right. He turned, smiling brightly, and extended his hand to the girl. She responded, but her fingers lay cold and passive in his grasp. "We've been watching Castor at exercise, Miss Armitage," he said with enthusiasm. "He's a beauty, and I can't tell you how grateful I am to you for letting me have him. I've brought my friend Mr. Trelawny to see him: you know Mr. Trelawny, I think."
Pierce, with every intention of saying the right thing, piled fuel to the fire as he, in his turn, shook hands with Rada. "I was awfully surprised," he said, "to learn that Mostyn had been lucky enough to buy such a horse as Castor. I was saying only just now, that if one could judge of a Derby winner from a two-year-old——"
The frown on Rada's forehead deepened, her lips puckered up, and her uncontrollable tongue had its way. "I should hate Castor to win the Derby for Mr. Clithero or for anyone else. Castor is my horse, and he was sold without my consent." She turned passionately upon Mostyn, her black eyes shining. "It was mean and cowardly of you!" she said. "You did it because of what I said to you the other day. You did it to spite me! Can't you fight fair? Aren't there enough horses in the world for you to buy, without robbing me of the one ambition, the one hope of my life?"
Jack Treves chuckled. The scene had begun just as he had anticipated. But Rada turned and fixed her eyes indignantly upon him, and he took the hint and moved away.
"Miss Armitage, I had no idea," stammered Mostyn; "believe me—I——
"May I have a few words with you alone?" she interrupted.
Mostyn glanced helplessly at his friend. Pierce awkwardly pulled out his watch. "It's time I was off," he said hurriedly. "It will take me a few minutes to get to the station, and really there's only just time. We shall meet on Friday as arranged."
He took hasty leave of his friend and of Rada. "Jove, how her eyes glistened!" he muttered to himself as he hurried away. "Can Mostyn really have fallen in love with the girl? Why, she's—she's a regular little spit-fire; what's more, she'll have the horse back, if I'm not mistaken." He gave one of his characteristic whistles. "Poor Mostyn!" he added sympathetically.