"No, a living lady in a riding habit."
If I had thought to embarrass her by this flight of gallantry, my hope was fruitless, for the arrow, splintered by her smile, fell harmlessly to the dust of the road.
"An Amazon seems hardly the appropriate mate to Sir Charles Grandison," she retorted.
"Just now it was the General that I resembled."
"Oh, you out-generaled the General a mile back. Even he didn't attempt to break the heart of Aunt Matoaca at their second meeting."
The candid merriment in her face had put me wholly at ease,—I who had stood tongue-tied and blushing before the simpers of poor Bessy. Dare as I might, I could bring no shadow of self-consciousness, no armour of sex, into her sparkling eyes.
"And have I tried to break yours?" I asked bluntly.
"Have you? You know best. I am not familiar with Grandisonian tactics."
"I don't believe there's a man alive who could break your heart," I said.
With her arm on the neck of the sorrel mare, she gave me back my glance, straight and full, like a gallant boy.