"I ride in the Park every morning," she began. "I ride alone because I prefer to be alone. My father objects, and Phil doesn't like it, because they don't think it's safe. I think I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, so I disregard their objection. Your friend also rides in the Park every morning, sometimes with a rather conspicuous woman and the last few mornings alone. I don't know whether it's design, I don't know whether it's chance—but he rides nearer me than I like."
I waited for her to point the moral, mentioning incidentally that England was a free country and the Park was open to the public.
"He may have the whole of it," she answered, "except just that little piece where I happen to be riding at any given moment."
"I'm afraid you can't keep him out of even that."
Her eyes broke into sudden blaze. "I can flog him out of it as I'd flog any man who followed me when I forbade him."
There was nothing more to be said, but I said it as soon as I dared.
"We're friends, Sylvia?" She nodded. "And I can say anything I please to you?"
"No one can do that."
"Anything in reason? Well, it's this—you're coming a most awful cropper one of these fine days, my imperious little queen."
"You think so?"