Harry's exaggerated homage during the afternoon has suggested the idea that he contemplates a marriage with her. That other than purely sentimental reasons have weight with him in this respect she thinks highly probable, but there is nothing offensive to her in the thought. She knows that, in spite of her beauty, she must buy a husband; why then should she not buy a husband whom she likes?
Nothing could happen more opportunely than this drive in the moonlight. She is quite sure of bringing the affair to a satisfactory conclusion.
Click-clack--the ponies' hoofs beat the dusty road in monotonous rhythm, tossing light silvery clouds of dust into the moonlight. Harry is still silent, when--a plump hand is laid upon his arm.
"Please," Paula murmurs, half laughing, and handing him the reins, "drive for me. The ponies are so fresh to-night, they almost pull my hands off."
Harry bows, the ponies shake their manes, snort proudly, and increase their speed, seeming to feel a sympathetic hand upon the reins.
"And I fancied I could drive!" Paula says, with a laugh; "it is a positive pleasure to see you handle the reins."
"But such toys as these ponies!" he remarks, with a rather impatient protest.
"Can you drive four-in-hand?" she asks, bluntly.
"Yes, and five-in-hand, or six-in-hand, for that matter," he replies.
"Of course! How stupid of me to ask! Did you not drive five-in-hand on the Prater, three years ago on the first of May? Three chestnuts and two bays, if I remember rightly."