e in horses as in women. Most men
have.'

'Miss Durwent'--his face flushed angrily and his jaw stiffened--'I'll
ride any horse you choose in England, and'----

'And break the heart of the most vixenish maiden in London! You are a
real American, after all. What is it you say over there? "Shake!"'

She slapped her hand into his, and he held it in a strong grip.

'But you _will_ let me see you again soon?'

'Certainly.' She withdrew her hand from his with a firmness that had
neither censure nor coquetry in it, and the heightened colour of her
cheeks subsided with the sparkle of her eyes.

'When?' he said.

'To-morrow morning, if you like. I shall have horses here at eleven,
and we can ride in the Row, providing you will put up with anything so
quiet as our cattle.'

'That is bully of you. I shall be here at eleven.'

'I thought all Americans used slang,' she said.

'You are the first English girl I have met,' he answered with
extraordinary venom in his voice, 'who has not said "ripping."'

* * * * * *

Twenty minutes later Austin Selwyn, unable to secure a taxi, tramped
along Oxford Street towards his hotel. He had just reached the Circus
when the malignant wind, hiding in ambush down Regent Street, rushed at
him unawares and sent his hat roistering into the doorway of a store.
With a frown, Selwyn stopped and stared at the truant.

'Confound the wretched thing!' he said.

CHAPTER VI.

A MORNING IN NOVEMBER.

I.

Austin Selwyn rose from his bed and looked at Berners Street glistening
in a sunlight that must have warmed the heart of Madame Carlotti
herself. With a lazy pleasure in the process, he recalled the picture
of Elise Durwent sitting in the dim shadows of the firelit room; he
felt again the fragrance of her person as he leaned over her with the
lighted match. On the canvas of his brain was thrown the rich
colouring of the English girl, with the copper-hued luxury of hair and
the eyes that seemed to steal some magic from the fire; and he saw
again those warring lips, the crimson upper one chiding the passionate
scarlet of its twin.

Idly, while enjoying the unusual dissipation of a pre-breakfast
cigarette, he tried to imagine the course of incident and heredity that
had produced her strange personality. That there was a bitterness
somewhere in her disposition was obvious; but it certainly could not
have come from the mother, who was the soul of