ers. Men offered to buy these,
too, but Warrington was a property owner now, and he wanted the horses
for his own. In New York one of his wealthy friends had given him free
use of his stables: so Warrington rode, at home and abroad. His
income, ranging from twenty to thirty thousand the year, gave him that
financial independence which neither the clerk nor the millionaire
knew or understood. In the phraseology of the day, he carried his
business under his hat: in other words, he had no business cares or
responsibilities whatever.

Warrington made it a rule to saddle and bridle his own horses; grooms
become careless. One or two men of his acquaintance had gone to their
death for the want of care and a firm buckle. Besides, he enjoyed the
work, and it accustomed the horses to his touch. He saddled his
favorite hunter and led the eager animal into the open. He mounted and
whistled for the dog; but Jove for once did not respond; doubtless he
was out of hearing. Thereupon Warrington started for the Benningtons'
and found Patty already in the saddle. It was not that the dramatist
was blase, but he had come into contact with so many beautiful women
that his pulse rarely stirred out of its healthy, measured beat. But
this morning he was conscious of a slight thrill. The girl was really
beautiful; more than that, she was fresh with youth and gaiety, gaiety
which older women find necessary to repress. She was dressed in a dark
grey riding-habit and wore a beaver cocked-hat.

"Good morning," he said, touching his cap with his crop. "I hope I
haven't kept you waiting."

"Only a moment." The truth is, she wanted to prove to him that there
was one woman who did not keep men waiting. "Shall I pick the going?"

"I'm afraid I've lost track of the good country roads."

"Follow me, then."

They walked their horses to the city limits. You never saw either of
them galloping over brick or asphalt, which quickly ruins the
surest-footed horse; neither did they permit any fox-trotting, which, while
it shows off a spirited horse, decreases his value in the ring. All of
which is to say, these two, like their mounts, were thoroughbreds.

"Where is Jove?" she asked presently.

"The rogue is missing. I dare say he is gallivanting around some
neighbor's back yard. I haven't laid eyes on him this morning. I
believe he realizes that he will see me frequently hereafter, and has
not bothered his head to look me up."

"Frequently?" She turned h