He was serious, and wore a look of fatigue, in spite of the superb physical health of his whole appearance. The light fell across her face under the dark brim of her hat, and touched its beauty into something vividly apart from the shadows and sordidness of the place, yet paler than its sunlit brilliancy. "I wanted to say," she went on bravely, "that I've changed my mind. At least, I didn't really have any mind at all. And if you still want me to--" she paused again, but something in his eyes reassured her--"I will--I'd really _like_ to, you know, and _please_ be quiet, there isn't but a minute to say it in--and I'd never have told you--at least not for years and _years_--if you had won the race. Now let go of my hand--there are _hundreds_ of people all about--and you can come and see me to-morrow." It was all over in a moment. She had snatched her hand away, and was speeding back with a clear-eyed look of conscious rectitude, and he had responded to the exhortations of divers occupants of the car, backed by a disinterested brakeman, and stepped aboard. "Oh, well, there's another race next year," he said to somebody who spoke to him as he sat down in the end seat. It was early for such optimism, and they thought Herbert had a disgustingly cheerful temperament. Alice returned just as Miss Normaine and Arnold came up, and they all went back together, collecting the rest of the party as they went to their train. It was a vivacious progress along the homeward route. Pæans of victory and the flash of Roman candles filled the air. At one time, when some particular demonstration was absorbing the attention of the men, Miss Normaine found her niece at her side. "Aunt Katharine, you know I've always adored you," she said, with a repose of manner that disguised a trifle of apprehension. "Yes, I know, Alice, but I really can't promise to take you anywhere to-morrow. I--" "I don't want you to--I only want to confide in you." "Oh, dear, what have you been doing now?" "I think," replied Alice, while the chorus of sound about them swelled almost to sublimity, "that I've been getting engaged--to Eugene Herbert, you know." "Only to Eugene Herbert," breathed Miss Normaine. "I'm glad it occurred to you to mention it. But why didn't you say so before?" "It didn't--it wasn't--before," said Alice, faltering an instant under the calmly judicial eye of her aunt. "You see," she went on quickly, "it was because they lost the race. It wouldn't have been at all--not anyway for a long time,"--and again her mental glance swept the vista of the years she had mentioned to Herbert himself,--"if it hadn't been for that; but I couldn't let him go back without either the race or--or me," she concluded ingenuously.