There were hundreds of promenaders, and no one noticed them particularly.
On and on they walked, Lamont whispering soft, sweet nothings into her foolish ears, until they had left most of the throng far behind them.
"Hack, sir!—hack to ride up and down the beach!" exclaimed a man, stopping a pair of mettlesome horses almost directly in front of them.
Victor Lamont appeared to hesitate an instant; but in that instant he and the driver had exchanged meaning glances.
"Shall we not ride up and down, instead of walking?" suggested Lamont, eagerly. "I—I have something to tell you, and I may never have such an opportunity again. We can ride down as far as the light-house on the point, and back. Do not refuse me so slight a favor, I beg of you."
If she had stopped to consider, even for one instant, she would have declined the invitation; but, almost before she had decided whether she should say yes or no, Victor Lamont had lifted her in his strong arms, placed her in the cab, and sprung in after her.
Pretty, jolly Sally Gardiner looked a trifle embarrassed.
"Oh, how imprudent, Mr. Lamont!" she cried, clinging to his arm, as the full consciousness of the situation seemed to occur to her. "We had better get out, and walk back to the Ocean House."
But it was too late for objections. The driver had already whipped up his horses, and instead of creeping wearily along, after the fashion of tired hack horses, they flew down the beach like the wind.
"Oh, Mrs. Gardiner—Sally!" cried Victor Lamont, in a voice apparently husky with emotion, "the memory of this ride will be with me while life lasts!"