"Never mind. No, Kitty! Don't, dear. No lady looks back when a gentleman passes her."
(A new entry appeared in "The Deleah Book" that night: "No lady looks round when a gentleman passes her. D. D.")
"Miss Day!"—with a soft, irrepressible giggle—"He has turned his horse and is riding after us."
"Never mind. Let us hurry on."
But when the mare was pulled up beside her, her hoofs clattering on the cobble-stones of the street, Miss Day, in spite of herself, must stop.
"How do, Deleah?" Kitty Miller had again the privilege of seeing how beautifully the hat came off, exposing for quite an appreciable time the young man's fair, smooth head. "Whoa, Nance!" to the satin-skinned, black mare, who objected to being pulled into the gutter running by the side of the pavement. "I say—there was something I particularly wanted to say to you, Deleah. Whoa! Steady, old girl! I say—how's Bessie?"
"Bessie is very well, thank you, Mr. Forcus."
"'Mr. Forcus?' Come, I say, Deleah! you aren't going to put me at arm's length, that fashion! I was going to ask you—How is Bessie?"
"Very well, thank you."
"I haven't seen Bessie for ages."