horse, and only responding to the greetings of acquaintances he chanced
to meet with absent-minded, though still irreproachable, courtesy. He
was hardly thinking at all, now--at least consciously. He was simply
glad to be alive, as Youth is glad--in spite of any possible, or
impossible, environment.

Suddenly his eyes fell upon a feminine rider some paces in advance, who
seemed to attract much attention, of which she was--apparently
--delightfully unconscious. Paul marked the faultless proportions of her
horse.

"What a magnificent animal!" he thought. Then, under his breath, he
added, "and what a stunning rider!"

She was only a girl--about eighteen or nineteen, he should judge by her
figure and the girlish poise of her small head--but she certainly knew
how to ride. She sat her horse as though a part of him, and controlled
his every motion as she would her own.

"Just that way might she manage a man," Paul thought, and then laughed
aloud at the absurdity of the thought. For he had never seen the girl
before.

Paul admired a good horsewoman--they are so pitifully few. And he
followed her, at a safe distance, with an interest unaccountable, even
to him. Finally she drew rein before one of the houses facing the Row,
dismounted, and throwing the train of her habit gracefully over her arm,
walked to the door with a brisk step. Paul instantly likened her to a
bird, so lightly tripping over the walk that her feet scarcely seemed to
touch the ground. She was a wee thing--certainly not more than five foot