th an
even break."

Sally was susceptible to flattery in regard to her riding, a fact that
I made subtle use of.

"But in a long race I was afraid you'd beat me. Russ, I've learned to
ride out here. Back home I never had room to ride a horse. Just look.
Miles and miles of level, of green. Little hills with black bunches of
trees. Not a soul in sight. Even the town hidden in the green. All wild
and lonely. Isn't it glorious, Russ?"

"Lately it's been getting to me," I replied soberly.

We both gazed out over the sea of gray-green, at the undulating waves
of ground in the distance. On these rides with her I had learned to
appreciate the beauty of the lonely reaches of plain.

But when I could look at her I seldom wasted time on scenery. Looking at
her now I tried to get again that impression of a difference in her. It
eluded me.

Just now with the rose in her brown cheeks, her hair flying, her eyes
with grave instead of mocking light, she seemed only prettier than
usual. I got down ostensibly to tighten the saddle girths on her horse.
But I lingered over the task.

Presently, when she looked down at me, I received that subtle impression
of change, and read it as her soft mood of dangerous sweetness that came
so seldom, mingled with something deeper, more of character and
womanliness than I had ever sensed in her.

"Russ, it wasn't nice to tell Diane that," she said.

"Nice! It was--oh, I'd like to swear!" I ejaculated. "But now I
understand my miserable feeling. I was jealous, Sally, I'm sorry. I
apologize."

She had drawn off her gloves, and one little hand, brown, shapely,
rested upon her knee very near to me. I took it in mine. She let it
stay, though she looked away from me, the color rich in her cheeks.

"I can forgive that," she murmured. "But the lie. Jealousy doesn't
excuse a lie."

"You mean--what I intimated to your cousin," I said, trying to make her
look at me. "That was the devil in me. Only it's true."

"How can it be true when you never asked--said a word--you hinted of?"
she queried. "Diane believed what you said. I know she thinks me
horrid."

"No she doesn't. As for what I said, or meant to say, which is the same
thing, how'd you take my actions? I hope not the same as you take
Wright's or the other fellow's."

Sally was silent, a little pale now, and I saw that I did not need to
say any more about the other fellows. The change, the difference was now
marked. It drove me to give in w