It was on one of these early rides that she saw Nicholas again. She was returning leisurely through the stretch of woodland, when, catching sight of him as he swung vigorously ahead, she quickened her horse's pace and overtook him as he glanced inquiringly back.
"Divide the worm, early bird," she cried gaily.
He paused as she did, laying his hand on the horse's neck.
"There wasn't but one and you got it," he retorted lightly. "Have you been far?"
"Miles, and I'm as hungry as two bears. Have you anything in your pocket?"
Her glowing face rose against a background of maple boughs, which surrounded her like a flame. The mist of the morning was on her lips and her eyes were shining. He felt her beauty leap like wine to his brain, and he set his teeth and looked blankly down the road.
She laughed as she plunged her hand into the pocket of his coat. "You used to have apples," she complained, "or honeyshucks, at least—now there's only this."
It was a worn little Latin text book, with frayed edges and soiled leaves.
"Give it to me," he said quickly, but as he reached to take it from her the leaves fell open and she saw her own name written and rewritten across the crumpled pages.
She closed it and gave it back to him.