"I'll race you to the beach!" she cried suddenly.
"Done! I'll give you to the sixth tree." He laughed. There was really nothing at all in the world but this beautiful girl, the horses, and the white road that wound in and out to the sea.
She trotted her mount to the sixth tree, turned, and then gave the signal. Away they went, the horses every bit as eager as their riders. With their ears laid back, their nostrils wide, their feet drumming, they thundered down the road. Carrington gained, but slowly, and he had to hold his right arm as a shield for his eyes, as the filly's heels threw back a steady rain of sand and gravel. Faster and faster; a milk-wagon veered out just in time; foolish chickens scampered to the wrong side of the road, and the stray pigs in the orchards squealed and bolted inland. It was all very fine. And when they struck deep tawny sand the animals were neck and neck. It was now no easy task to bring them to a stop. Carrington's hunter had made up his mind to win, and the lithe filly was equally determined. As an expedient, they finally guided the animals toward the hull of an ancient wreck; nothing else would have stopped them.
"How I love it!" said Kate breathlessly, as she slid from the saddle. "Beauty, you beat him, didn't you!" patting the dripping neck of her favorite.
They tethered the horses presently, and sat down in the shade of the hull.
"Nothing like it, is there, girl?"
"I hate automobiles," she answered irrelevantly.
The old, old sea quarreled murmurously at their feet, and the white gulls sailed hither and thither, sometimes breasting the rollers just as they were about to topple over into running creamy foam. The man and the girl seemed perfectly content to remain voiceless. There was no sound but the song of the sea: the girl dreamed, and the man wondered what her dream was. Presently he glanced at his watch. He stood up, brushing the sand from his clothes.
"Half an hour between us and breakfast, Kate. All aboard!"