'Yes,' he said, watching the cigarette-smoke curl towards the
fireplace, 'though I prefer an amiable beast to a spirited one.'

'Good!' she said, so quickly that it seemed like the thrust of a sword
in tierce. 'You have the same taste in horses as in women. Most men
have.'

'Miss Durwent'--his face flushed angrily and his jaw stiffened--'I'll
ride any horse you choose in England, and'----

'And break the heart of the most vixenish maiden in London! You are a
real American, after all. What is it you say over there? "Shake!"'

She slapped her hand into his, and he held it in a strong grip.

'But you _will_ let me see you again soon?'

'Certainly.' She withdrew her hand from his with a firmness that had
neither censure nor coquetry in it, and the heightened colour of her
cheeks subsided with the sparkle of her eyes.

'When?' he said.

'To-morrow morning, if you like. I shall have horses here at eleven,
and we can ride in the Row, providing you will put up with anything so
quiet as our cattle.'

'That is bully of you. I shall be here at eleven.'