same kind of nerve as ours. We are a different tribe, with different
surroundings, and we don't sit in the same kind of saddle. We ride for
all we're worth all the time. You sit back and take it easy. We are never
satisfied unless we are behind a fast trotter; you are content with a
good cob that steps high, tosses its head, and has an aristocratic
stride."

"Have you been in the country much?" she asked, without any seeming
relevancy.

He was keen enough. He saw the veiled point of her question. "No: I've
never been in the country here," he said. "I suppose you mean that I
don't see or know England till I've lived there."

"Quite so, Mr. Vandewaters." She smiled to think what an undistinguished
name it was. It suggested pumpkins in the front garden. Yet here its
owner was perfectly at his ease, watching the scene before him with
good-natured superiority. "London is English; but it is very
cosmopolitan, you know," she added; "and I fancy you can see it is not a
place for fast trotters. The Park would be too crowded for that--even if
one wished to drive a Maud S."

He turned his slow keen eyes on her, and a smile broadened into a low
laugh, out of which he said:

"What do you know of Maud S? I didn't think you would be up in racing
matters."

"You forget that my husband is a traveller, and an admirer of Americans
and things American."