d lurched heavily on to a policeman preparing to
make a dash for the horse's head. The constable fell with the man, and
the pair, hero and craven, rolled comfortably in the kennel, clasped in
each other's arms.

Lionel, thus favored by destiny, fitted his hat more firmly to his head
and prepared to make his fortune. In his early youth he had read that
the best method of stopping a runaway is to run in the same direction.
Remembering this, he set off at full speed; and by the time the horse
was level with his shoulder he was running almost as fast. With a
judicious leap he sprang at the reins, clutched them, stumbled,
recovered and still ran. He was strong of arm and at least twelve
stones in weight. The horse, already half-repentant of his lapse, was
not inclined to support so heavy a burden at his mouth. A few yards more
and the heroic part of the episode was over. Several officious touts
were holding the horse's head, and another policeman was preparing to
make notes.

Lionel, panting from the unusual exertion, turned to look after the
lady. She, who had behaved with such admirable composure while danger
was imminent, now that it was over, lay in a faint. As he raised her in
his arms he noticed with satisfaction that she was certainly beautiful
and her clothes expensive and tasteful. "Ha! ha!" he thought
whimsically, "a secretaryship! Governor of a Crown Colony at least! I
must take a flat to-morrow!" He bore her into a chemist's shop that
stood conveniently near, and placed her in a chair. While the chemist
was applying sal volatile in the genteelest manner, Lionel was wondering
whom he should ask to support him at St. George's.

It was not long before the lady recovered her senses, and she opened her
eyes with a ravishing sigh. She was naturally bewildered, and
Lionel--partly because he wished to reassure her, partly because she
was very pretty--knelt and took her hand.

"There is no need for alarm," he said persuasively, with the purring
note that some women find sympathetic. "You fainted; that is all."

She gave the ghost of a shudder: "I fainted?"

"Yes. The horse, ran away, but there was no accident."

"The coachman--is he hurt?"

This thought for another in the midst of her own recovery flushed
Lionel's being like a draught of wine. Hitherto she had been merely a
pretty aristocrat and (apparently) a delightful girl. Now she was
more--a divine human whom he longed to kiss, caress and call "You
darling!