"You will have to be the best judge of that," he said.
"But what am I to think?" she persisted.
"Think the best of me you can," he answered, as they drew up on the gravel before the open door of Fairview house. A man was standing in the moonlight on the porch.
"Is that you, Victoria?"
"Yes, father."
"I was getting worried," said Mr. Flint, coming down on the driveway.
"I'm all right," she said, leaping out of the buggy, "Mr. Vane brought me home."
"How are you, Hilary?" said Mr. Flint.
"I'm Austen Vane, Mr. Flint," said Austen.
"How are you?" said Mr. Flint, as curtly as the barest politeness allowed. "What was the matter with your own horse, Victoria?"