conventional black riding-habit that only added grace to her severity
of outline, she moved among her husband's guests. And even those of them
who, like Major Shirley, resented that queenliness which was an inborn
part of her very nature, were fain to admit that she filled her position
as lady of the Manor with striking success. Though she had withdrawn
herself more and more of late from the society of the neighbourhood, she
acted the part of hostess with unfailing graciousness. On foot she moved
among the throng, greeting everyone she knew.

Little Dot Waring, standing in the background with her brother on a
certain misty morning in January marked her progress with looks of loving
admiration. Lady Carfax's mount, a powerful grey with nervous ears and
gleaming eyes, was being held in unwilling subjection close to them.

"Be ready to mount her when she comes this way, Ralph," Dot whispered, as
the tall figure drew nearer.

But the honour of mounting Lady Carfax was not for Ralph. A man on
a black mare--a slight man with high cheek-bones and an insolent
bearing--was threading his way towards them through the crowd. The mare,
like the grey, was restive, and her rider swore at her whimsies as he
came.

Meeting Dot's frank regard, he checked himself and raised his hat with a
courtesy half-instinctive.

Dot stared, coloured, and very slightly bowed.

Ralph sniggered. "Let yourself in for it that time, my child! Here comes
Bertie to effect a formal introduction."

"Bertie won't introduce him," she said quickly.

Bertie, looking very handsome and stalwart, was already close to them. He
leaned down from the saddle to shake hands.

"Are you following on foot? I wish I was. Never thought of it till
this moment."

"I would much rather follow on horseback," Dot declared, looking as if
she did not believe him.

He laughed. "I'll take you in front of me if you'll come."

"No. I shouldn't like that," said Dot very decidedly.

"How can you possibly know till you try?"

Dot looked up at him with the sunshine in her clear eyes. "How do you
know that you would prefer to follow the hounds on foot? I don't suppose
you ever have."

"How do I know?" laughed Bertie. "Because I should be in your company, of
course. Isn't that reason enough?"

"Idiot!" said Dot tersely.

"Minx!" said Bertie.

She flushed, looked angry for a moment, and then in spite of herself
dimpled into a smile. "Bertie, you're a beast! Say that again if