fter in society such as she
had not yet seen.

"You have no conception of the immense number of engagements that occupy
our time," he replied; "I am fond of horses--I take a great interest in
all races."

If he had added that he was one of the greatest gamblers on the turf, he
would have spoken truthfully.

"Horse racing," said Miss Darrell--"that is the favorite occupation of
English gentlemen, is it not?"

"I should imagine so. Then I am considered--you must pardon my
boasting--one of the best billiard players in London."

"That is not much of a boast," she remarked, with such quiet contempt
that the captain could only look at her in sheer wonder.

"There are balls, operas, parties, suppers--I cannot tell what; and the
ladies engross a great deal of our time. We soldiers never forget our
devotion and chivalry to the fair sex, Miss Darrell."

"The fair sex should be grateful that they share your attention with
horses and billiards," she returned. "But what else do you do, Captain
Langton? I was not thinking of such trifles as these."

"Trifles!" he repeated. "I do not call horse racing a trifle. I was
within an inch of winning the Derby--I mean to say a horse of mine was.
If you call that a trifle, Miss Darrell, you go near to upsetting
English society altogether."

"But what great things do you do?" she repeated, her dark eyes opening
wider. "You cannot mean seriously that this is all. Do you never write,
paint--have you no ambition at all?"

"I do not know what you call ambition," he replied, sullenly; "as for
writing and painting, in England we pay people to do that kind of thing
for us. You do not think that I would paint a picture, even if I could?"

"I should think you clever if you did that," she returned; "at present I
cannot see that you do anything requiring mind or intellect."

"Miss Darrell," he said, looking at her, "you are a radical, I believe."

"A radical?" she repeated, slowly. "I am not quite sure, Captain
Langton, that I know what that means."

"You believe in aristocracy of intellect, and all that kind of
nonsense," he continued. "Why should a man who paints a picture be any
better than the man who understands the good points of a horse?"

"Why, indeed?" she asked, satirically. "We will not argue the question,
for we should not agree."

"I had her there," thought the captain. "She could not answer me. Some
of these women require a high hand to keep them in order."

"I do not se