“I'm going to write about some of the dresses,” she said. “I'm afraid no one would read my racing notes.” “I hope you'll mention your own,” he said coolly. “It's quite the prettiest here.” She scarcely knew whether to be amused or offended. “You are a very downright person, Mr. Trent,” she said. “You don't expect me to have acquired manners yet, do you?” he answered drily. “You have acquired a great many things,” she said, “with surprising facility. Why not manners?” He shrugged his shoulders. “No doubt they will come, but I shall want a lot of polishing. I wonder--” “Well?” “Whether any one will ever think it worth while to undertake the task.” She raised her eyes and looked him full in the face. She had made up her mind exactly what to express--and she failed altogether to do it. There was a fire and a strength in the clear, grey eyes fixed so earnestly upon hers which disconcerted her altogether. She was desperately angry with herself and desperately uneasy. “You have the power,” she said with slight coldness, “to buy most things. By the by, I was thinking only just now, how sad it was that your partner did not live. He shared the work with you, didn't he? It seems such hard lines that he could not have shared the reward!” He showed no sign of emotion such as she had expected, and for which she had been narrowly watching him. Only he grew at once more serious, and he led her a little further still from the crush of people. It was the luncheon interval, and though the next race was the most important of the day, the stream of promenaders had thinned off a little. “It is strange,” he said, “that you should have spoken to me of my partner. I have been thinking about him a good deal lately.” “In what way?” “Well, first of all, I am not sure that our agreement was altogether a fair one,” he said. “He had a daughter and I am very anxious to find her! I feel that she is entitled to a certain number of shares in the Company, and I want her to accept them.” “Have you tried to find her?” she asked. He looked steadily at her for a moment, but her parasol had dropped a little upon his side and he could not see her face. “Yes, I have tried,” he said slowly, “and I have suffered a great disappointment. She knows quite well that I am searching for her, and she prefers to remain undiscovered.” “That sounds strange,” she remarked, with her eyes fixed upon the distant Surrey hills. “Do you know her reason?” “I am afraid,” he said deliberately, “that there can be only one. It's a miserable thing to believe of any woman, and I'd be glad--” He hesitated. She kept her eyes turned away from him, but her manner denoted impatience.