"We didn't come coastward at all," he replied. "I never thought of
your caring to see them."

Nan was not in the least a sportswoman by nature, though she had hunted
as a child--albeit much against her will--to satisfy the whim of a
father who had been a dare-devil rider across country and had found his
joy in life--and finally his death--in the hunting field he had loved.
But she was a lover of animals, like most people of artistic
temperament, and her reply was enthusiastic.

"Of course I'd like to have seen them!"

Roger's face brightened.

"Then will you let me show you the kennels one day? I could motor over
for you and bring you back afterwards."

Nan nodded up at him.

"I'd like to come very much. When shall we do it?"

Kitty stirred idly in her hammock.

"You've let yourself in for it now, Roger," she remarked. "Nan is the
most impatient person alive."

Once more Nan looked up, with lazy "blue violet" eyes whose seductive
sweetness sent an unaccustomed thrill down Roger's spine. She was so
different, this slender bit of womanhood with her dusky hair and petal
skin, from the sturdy, thick-booted, sporting type of girl to which he