"Nonsense!" she exclaimed, shortly.
"I reckon the possibility is—that," replied Slone, bitterly, "but my motive isn't."
"It is. Why, you've known me only a few days.... Dad would be mad. Like as not he'd knock you down.... I tell you, Lin, my dad is—is pretty rough. And just at this time of the races.... And if Wildfire beats the King! ... Whew!"
"WHEN Wildfire beats the King, not IF," corrected Slone.
"Dad will be dangerous," warned Lucy. "Please don't—-don't ask him that. Then everybody would know I—I—you—-you—"
"That's it. I want everybody at your home to know."
"But it's a little place," flashed Lucy. "Every one knows me. I'm the only girl. There have been—other fellows who.... And oh! I don't want you made fun of!"
"Why?" he asked.
Lucy turned away her head without answering. Something deep within her was softening her anger. She must fight to keep angry; and that was easy enough, she thought, if she could only keep in mind Slone's opposition to her. Strangely, she discovered that it had been sweet to find him always governed by her desire or will.
"Maybe you misunderstand," he began, presently. And his voice was not steady. "I don't forget I'm only—a beggarly rider. I couldn't have gone into the Ford at all—I was such a ragamuffin—"