charge him. She stopped in time, and said with a laugh, "Your
gallantry deserves a reward. Wouldn't you rather send your horse
home and come for a ride with me?"

"My man is waiting at Fifty-ninth Street. If you'll come that far,
I'll go with pleasure."

Monty had merely a society acquaintance with Miss Drew. He had met
her at dinners and dances as he had a host of other girls, but she
had impressed him more than the others. Something indescribable
took place every time their eyes met. Monty had often wondered
just what that something meant, but he had always realized that it
had in it nothing of platonic affection.

"If I didn't have to meet her eyes," he had said to himself, "I
could go on discussing even politics with her, but the moment she
looks at me I know she can see what I'm thinking about." From the
first they considered themselves very good friends, and after
their third meeting it seemed perfectly natural that they should
call one another by their first names. Monty knew he was treading
on dangerous ground. It never occurred to him to wonder what
Barbara might think of him. He took it as a matter of course that
she must feel more than friendly toward him. As they rode through
the maze of carriages, they bowed frequently to friends as they
passed. They were conscious that some of the women, noticeably old
Miss Dexter, actually turned around and gazed at them.

"Aren't you afraid people will talk about us?" asked Monty with a
laugh.