Antonia dropped the reins, and straightened her back hair.
“There 's no fun in that,” she said. “Out and back again; I hate a dog's walk.”
“Very well,” said Shelton; he would have her longer to himself!
The road led up and up a hill, and from the top a vision of Saxonia lay disclosed in waves of wood and pasture. Their way branched down a gateless glade, and Shelton sidled closer till his knee touched the mare's off-flank.
Antonia's profile conjured up visions. She was youth itself; her eyes so brilliant, and so innocent, her cheeks so glowing, and her brow unruffled; but in her smile and in the setting of her jaw lurked something resolute and mischievous. Shelton put his hand out to the mare's mane.
“What made you promise to marry me?” he said.
She smiled.
“Well, what made you?”
“I?” cried Shelton.
She slipped her hand over his hand.