he could not apologise for his behaviour unless he confessed his
jealousy of Austin, which, in all probability, would have subjected him
to the mocking ridicule of Viviette--a thing which, above all others, he
dreaded, and against which he knew himself to be defenceless. Viviette,
too, found silence golden. She knew perfectly well why Dick had slammed
the door. An explanation would have been absurd. It would have
interfered with her relations with Austin, which were beginning to be
exciting. But she loved Dick in her heart for being a bear, and evinced
both her compunction and her appreciation in peculiar graciousness.

"You've never asked me to try the new mare," she said. "I don't think it
a bit kind of you."

"Would you care to?" he asked eagerly.

"Of course I should. I love to see you with horses. You and the trap and
the horse seem to be as much one mechanism as a motor-car."

"I can make a horse do what I want," he said, delighted at the
compliment. "We'll take the dog-cart. When will you come? This morning?"

"Yes--let us say eleven. It will be lovely."

"I'll have it round at eleven o'clock. You'll see. She's a flyer."

"So am I," she said with a laugh, and pointed to the front gate, which a
garden lad had just run to open to admit a young man on horseback.

"Oh, lord! it's Banstead," said Dick with a groan.