"Did you ever see me in a green muslin? I'll saddle Dolly myself, if you
don't feel like it."

She spoke very quietly, but the immediate consciousness of his stupid
break did not improve Austin's bad temper.

"Oh, I'll saddle for you, but the heat aside, I think you ought to
understand that it isn't best for a woman to ride about on these lonely
roads by herself. It was different a few years ago; but now, with all
these Italian and Portuguese laborers around, it's a different story. I
think you'd better stay at home."

The unwarranted and dictatorial tone of the last sentence spoiled the
speech, which might otherwise, in spite of the surly manner in which it
was uttered, have passed for an expression of solicitude. Sylvia, who was
as headstrong as she was amiable, gathered up her reins quickly.

"By what right do you consider yourself in a position to dictate to me?"
she demanded.

"By none at all; but it's only decent to tell you the risk you're
running; now if you come to grief, I certainly shan't feel sorry."

"From your usual behavior, I shouldn't have supposed you would, anyway.
Good-bye, Austin."

"Good-bye, Mrs. Cary."

"Why don't you call me Sylvia, as all the rest do?"