“I presume, Alice,” said Parker, satisfied with the impression he had made, “that I am here for much the same reason as you are--to enjoy the morning in proper style. As for Rozinante, I borrowed him. Is that chestnut yours? Excuse the rudeness of the question.” “No,” said Alice, coloring a little. “This seems such an unlikely place to meet you.” “Oh, no. I always take a turn in the season. But certainly it would have been a very unlikely place for us to meet a year ago.” So far, Alice felt, she was getting the worst of the conversation. She changed the subject. “Have you been to Wiltstoken since I last saw you?” “Yes. I go there once every week at least.” “Every week! Janet never told me.” Parker implied by a cunning air that he thought he knew the reason of that; but he said nothing. Alice, piqued, would not condescend to make inquiries. So he said, presently, “How is Miss Thingumbob?” “I do not know any one of that name.” “You know very well whom I mean. Your aristocratic patron, Miss Carew.” Alice flushed. “You are very impertinent, Wallace,” she said, grasping her riding-whip. “How dare you call Miss Carew my patron?” Wallace suddenly became solemn. “I did not know that you objected to be reminded of all you owe her,” he said. “Janet never speaks ungratefully of her, though she has done nothing for Janet.” “I have not spoken ungratefully,” protested Alice, almost in tears. “I feel sure that you are never tired of speaking ill of me to them at home.” “That shows how little you understand my real character. I always make excuses for you.” “Excuses for what? What have I done? What do you mean?” “Oh, I don’t mean anything, if you don’t. I thought from your beginning to defend yourself that you felt yourself to be in the wrong.” “I did not defend myself; and I won’t have you say so, Wallace.” “Always your obedient, humble servant,” he replied, with complacent irony. She pretended not to hear him, and whipped up her horse to a smart trot. The white steed being no trotter, Parker followed at a lumbering canter. Alice, possessed by a shamefaced fear that he was making her ridiculous, soon checked her speed; and the white horse subsided to a walk, marking its paces by deliberate bobs of its unfashionably long mane and tail. “I have something to tell you,” said Parker at last. Alice did not deign to reply. “I think it better to let you know at once,” he continued. “The fact is, I intend to marry Janet.” “Janet won’t,” said Alice, promptly, retorting first, and then reflecting on the intelligence, which surprised her more than it pleased her. Parker smiled conceitedly, and said, “I don’t think she will raise any difficulty if you give her to understand that it is all over between US.” “That what is all over?” “Well, if you prefer it, that there never has been anything between us. Janet believes that we were engaged. So did a good many other people until you went into high life.” “I cannot help what people thought.”