surprised to find that she omitted no part, not even the hand
clasp or the manner in which she clung to him. His ears burned
as he listened to this frank confession, for he expected to hear
words of disapproval from the uncle and aunt. His astonishment
was increased by their utter disregard of these rather peculiar
details. It was then that he realized how trusting she had been,
how serenely unconscious of his tender and sudden passion. And
had she told her relatives that she had kissed him, he firmly
believed they would have smiled approvingly. Somehow the real
flavor of romance was stricken from the ride by her candid
admissions. What he had considered a romantic treasure was being
calmly robbed of its glitter, leaving for his memory the blurr of
an adventure in which he had played the part of a gallant
gentleman and she a grateful lady. He was beginning to feel
ashamed of the conceit that had misled him. Down in his heart he
was saying: "I might have known it. I did know it. She is not
like other women." The perfect confidence that dwelt in the rapt
faces of the others forced into his wondering mind the impression
that this girl could do no wrong.

"And, Aunt Yvonne," she said, in conclusion, "the luck which you
say is mine as birthright asserted itself. I escaped unhurt,
while Mr. Lorry alone possesses the pain and unpleasantness of
our ride."

"I possess neither," he objected. "The pain that you refer to is
a pleasure."

"The pain that a man endures for a woman should always be a
pleasure," said Uncle Caspar smilingly.