He had the Greek line of head and throat, and he sat his horse with a
dare-devil repose. The eloquence of his mute attitudes, his physical
mastery of the conditions, his strength repressed, tied to my silly
freaks and subject to my commands, while his thoughts roamed free! That
was the beginning. It lasted through a week of starlight and a week of
moonlight--lyric nights with the hot, close days between; and each night
an increasing interest attached to the moment when he was to put me on my
horse. I make no apology for myself after that.

"One evening we approached a gate at the farther end of our longest course,
and the gate stood open. He rode on to close it. I stopped him. 'I am going
out,' I said. It was a resolution taken that moment. He held up his watch
to the light, which made me angry.

"'Go back to the stables,' I said, 'if you are due there. _I_ don't want to
know the time.'

"He brought his horse alongside. 'Where is Miss Benedet going, please?'

"'Anywhere,' I said, 'where it will be cool in the morning.'

"'Miss Benedet will have a long ride. Does she wish for company?'

"I did not answer. Something drove me forward, though I was afraid.

"'Outside that gate,' he went on quietly, '_I_ shall set the pace, and I do
not ride behind.' Still I did not answer. 'Is that the understanding?'

"'Ride where you please,' I said.