"You had rather ride with me than ride alone, had you not?" she asked demurely, and I obediently wheeled my horse beside hers, as I assured her the encounter was welcome; and while we rode on together, she told me she had wanted to know me for a long time, and that she felt we were old friends, though this had been our first real meeting, and many other such things that a man likes to hear a pretty woman say even though he knows she is fooling him. "Don't you think," she said, "that people sometimes feel they are going to like each other before they have ever met?" and she laid her hand gently on my arm and looked up for my answer. I have since tried to defend myself for the weakness of that moment in which I was near being recreant to the memory of a friend, but I know in my heart that there was no excuse for me except it be the witchery of the woman and the charm of the occasion. She was pretty--awfully pretty--and she knew all too well how to attract men, and then, too, the time and place were in her favor. The winter's day was in its last twilight, the moon was already filling the wayside with light that made shadows on the snow, and through the long avenue of trees that stretched before us no one was in sight, we two were alone. As I felt the caressing touch and looked into the fair face lifted to mine, I forgot all else in the intoxication of the moment, and responding impulsively leaned down to meet her glance and would have been guilty of what foolishness I know not, had her woman's mood not changed in time to save me. With a laugh she rapped me over the fingers with her whip and, spurring her horse, was gone from my reach in a moment. No man altogether likes the sensation of having been played with, and as I galloped after her I made up my mind not to let myself be again distracted by her wiles, but when I should have overtaken her to make the most of my opportunity to learn anything more she might know about the death of White. When she had tired of the fun of leading me a long and not very dignified chase, she pulled up and waited for me to rejoin her, remarking casually as I did so that I seemed to have a "good steady horse." "Yes," I replied, rather sharply I fear, for I was out of breath and humor, "and a fast one when I think it worth while to call on him." She looked him over carelessly as she replied: "I thought he was doing his best just now; he seems a little blown, does he not?" I deigned no reply to this and there were prospects of our ride being finished in silence, for if I intended to sulk she evidently meant to let me. Such a course, however, was not calculated to accomplish my purpose and as we were nearing the city again, I determined to introduce the subject I had in mind. "It is strange," I said, "is it not, that you and I should both be connected so closely with the circumstances of Arthur White's death?" She looked up surprised and evidently none too well pleased with the unexpected change in my tone.