“Yes, I know,” said he, with his friendliest smile. “Oh, by the way, would you mind doing your brother a favour, Miss Drake? Give him this watch. He—er—he must have dropped it while pursuing me.”
“You ran?” she accepted the watch with in surprise and unbelief.
“Here is the line, Miss Drake,” he evaded. “Consider yourself ignominiously ejected. Have I been unnecessarily rough and expeditious?”
“You have had a long and tiresome walk,” she said, settling herself for a merry clip. “Please don't step on our side.” He released the bridle rein and doffed his hat.
“I shall bring my horse to-morrow,” he remarked significantly.
“I may bring the duke,” she said sweetly.
“In that case I shall have to bring an extra man to lead his horse. It won't matter.”
“So this rock is the dividing line?”
“Yes; you are on the safe side now—and so am I, for that matter. The line is here,” and he drew a broad line in the dust from one side of the road to the other. “My orders are that you are not to ride across that line, at your peril.”
“And you are not to cross it either, at your peril.”
“Do you dare me?” with an eager step forward.
“Good-bye.”
“Good-bye! I say, are you sure you can find the Renwood cottage?” he called after her. The answer came back through the clatter of hoofs, accompanied by a smile that seduced his self-possession.
“I shall find it in time.”
For a long time he stood watching her as she raced down the road.
“At my peril,” he mused, shaking his head with a queer smile. “By George, that's fair warning enough. She's beautiful.”
At dinner that night the Honourable Penelope restored the watch to her brother, much to his embarrassment,
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