"Who? Georgie! annoyed? Oh, you must have been mistaken. I should have noticed it in an instant if that had been the case."
"You think so! Well, then, very likely it was my mistake. And I was so frightened, so fearful of causing any misunderstanding between you, so terrified at the thought of getting you into trouble, that I at once called that odious Major Winton into my service, and have suffered him to bore me with his niaiseries throughout the day."
"Oh, that was the reason that you flirted with Winton, then! I thought--"
"Thought what? Ah, I've caught you! You were angry then?"
"Well, perhaps,--just a little."
"I should have been deeply hurt if you had not been; it would have showed that you had no real interest in me, and that would be dreadful. Just before I knew you, I held my life as utterly valueless, the daily repetition of a dull dreary task,--nothing to live for, nobody to care for. And this morning, when I thought you were really angry with me, that feeling came back so hopelessly--oh, so hopelessly! I think I should die if I had no one to take interest in me now."
She moved her hand towards the little pocket in her saddle-flap for her handkerchief, but he stopped it in its descent and held it in his own.
"While I live," said he, "you will never have cause to make that complaint."
And their eyes met,--hers soft and dreamy, his fierce and eager. A delicious interchange of glances to the persons concerned, but perhaps not so pleasant to a looker-on. Apparently very displeasing to the only one then present--a tall slim woman, picking her way in a very cattish manner across the adjoining meadow; who stopped on catching sight of the equestrians, frowned heavily as she watched them, and crouched under the shadow of the hedge until they had passed.