"And I've seen you—once, Mr. Gaylord," some mischievous impulse prompted her to answer. Perhaps the impulse was more deep-seated, after all.
"Where?" demanded Tom, promptly.
"You were engaged," said Victoria, "in a struggle in a window on Ripton Square. It looked, for a time," she continued, "as if you were going to be dropped on the roof of the porch."
Tom gazed at her in confusion and surprise.
"You seem to be fond, too, of dangerous exercise," she observed.
"Do you mean to say you remembered me from that?" he exclaimed. "Oh, you know Austen Vane, don't you?"
"Does Mr. Vane acknowledge the acquaintance?" Victoria inquired.
"It's funny, but you remind me of Austen," said Tom, grinning; "you seem to have the same queer way of saying things that he has." Here he was conscious of another fit of embarrassment. "I hope you don't mind what I say, Miss Flint."
"Not at all," said Victoria. She turned, and looked across the track.
"I suppose they are having a lot of trouble in catching my horse," she remarked.