behind, galloped the horse bearing John Steele, and, as they went at a
fair pace, preceded and followed by others of a gay party, the eyes of
many passers-by turned to regard them.

"By Jove, they're stunning! It isn't often you see a man put up like
that."

"Or a girl more the picture of health!"

"And beauty!"

Unconscious of these and other comments from the usual curious
contingent of idlers filling the benches or strolling along the paths,
the girl now set a yet swifter gait, glancing quickly over her shoulder
at her companion: "Do you like a hard gallop? Shall we let them out?"

His brightening gaze answered; they touched their horses and for some
distance raced madly on, passed those in front and left them far behind.
Now Steele's eyes rested on the playing muscles of her superb horse,
then lifted to the lithe form of Jocelyn Wray, the straight shoulders, a
bit of a tress, disordered, floating rebelliously to the wind.

As abruptly as she had pressed her horse to that inspiring speed, she
drew him in to a walk. "Wasn't that worth coming to the park for?" she
said gaily.

He looked at her, at the flowers she readjusted, at the lips,
half-parted to her quick breath.

"More than worth it."