"Oh, no. Only you're another kind of a person—on the back of a horse."
"Am I? How?"
"Last night you were all woman. You and I are making friends pretty fast, but I was a little afraid of you."
"Why?"
"You're different at night, so sleepy and handsome, like a rattler in the sun, the kind you hate to wake up but must, to see how far he'll strike."
She laughed. "I don't know whether I like that or not. And yet I think I do. How am I different to-day?"
"To-day you're only part woman. The rest of you is just kid. If it wasn't for that knot of hair I'd take you for a boy—a very nice, good-looking boy."
She looked up at him mischievously. "You know you have a faculty of saying unpleasant things very pleasantly. I'm glad I look youthful. My only horror is of growing old. I don't think I like the idea of your thinking me anything unfeminine."
He glanced frankly at her protruding knee. "I don't. Most of you is woman all right—but you don't scare me half as much this morning."
"Why should you be scared? You haven't struck me as being a man who could be scared at anything."