of the utmost
self-control that she was able to swing the conversation toward other
topics.

The coming of the rest of the party eased things up a little. They had
all slept late, and Richard had made a half dozen calls before he had
joined Eve in the Garden Room. He had stopped at David's, and had heard
that on Monday there was to be a drag-hunt and breakfast at the club.
David hoped they would all stay over for it.

"Cousin David has a bunch of weedy-looking hounds," Richard explained;
"he lets them run as they please, and they've been getting up a fox
nearly every night. He thought you might like to ride up to the ridge in
the moonlight and have a view of them. I can get you some pretty fair
mounts at Bower's."

There was a note of wistful appeal in Eve's voice. "Do you really want
us, Dicky?"

He smiled at her. "Of course. Don't be silly, Eve."

She saw that she was forgiven, and smiled back. She had not slept much
the night before. She had heard Richard come in after his ride with Anne,
and she had been waked later by the sound of the telephone. In the room
next to hers Richard's subdued voice had answered. And presently there
had been the sound of his careful footsteps on the stairs.

She had crept out of bed and between the curtains had looked out. The
world was full of the shadowy paleness which comes with the waning of the
moon. The road beyond the garden showed like a dull gray ribbon against
the blackness of the hills. On this road appeared presently Richard on
his big white horse, the dog Toby, a shadow among the shadows as he ran
on ahead of them.

On and on they sped up the dull gray road, a spectral rider on a spectral
horse. She had wondered where he might be going. It must have been some
sudden and urgent call to take him out thus in the middle of the night.
For the first time she realized what his life meant. He could never
really be at his ease. Always there was before him the possibility of
some dread adventure--death might be on its way at this very moment.

Wide-awake and wrapped in her great rug, she had waited, and after a time
Richard had returned. The dawn was rising on the hills, and the world was
pink. His head was up and he was urging his horse to a swift gallop.

When at last he reached his room, she had gone to bed. But when she slept
it was to dream that the man on the white horse was riding away from her,
and that when she called he would not come.

But now with his smile up