Mr. Crane, leaving the room to put on his great-coat, a precaution without which he was most careful not to stir from home, D’Almayne observed,—
“You would prefer bay carriage-horses to grey, or any more conspicuous colour, would you not?”
Surprised at his having thus discovered her taste, Kate was so far thrown off her guard as to exclaim,—
“How in the world do you know that?”
Horace smiled a quiet smile.
“I reasoned from analog,” he said; “your dress is always rich and striking, but never showy; and the effect is produced by its consistency as a whole.”
Kate involuntarily returned his smile; tact and keen intelligence were qualities she highly appreciated.
“You are a close observer,” she said, “and shall be rewarded by learning the interesting fact that I do prefer bay horses to those of any other colour.”
Before the week was over, Mr. Crane had purchased a magnificent pair of bay carriage-horses, and had taken a lease of a noble mansion in Park Lane. The only fault Kate could discover in either, was the conviction forced upon her that it was to the agency of Horace D’Almayne she was indebted for them.