The buggy behind had made a little spurt, and the horses were almost neck and neck. Wharton looked ugly, and the black-eyed girl with fluffy black hair was looking behind Judith's head at Crittenden and was smiling. Not once had Judith turned her head, even to see who they were. Crittenden hardly knew whether she was conscious of the race, but they were approaching her gate now and he found out. "Shall I turn in?" he asked. "Go on," said Judith. There was a long, low hill before them, and up that Crittenden let Raincrow have his full speed for the first time. The panting nostrils of the other horse fell behind--out of sight--out of hearing. "And if he doesn't get back from the war, she will mourn for him sincerely for a year or two and then----" "Marry someone else." "Why not?" That was what she had so often told him to do, and now he spoke as though it were quite possible--even for him; and she was both glad and a little resentful. At the top of the hill they turned. The enemy was trotting leisurely up the slope, having given up the race earlier than they knew. Judith's face was flushed. "I don't think you are so very old," she said. [Illustration: "Go on!" said Judith.] Crittenden laughed, and took off his hat very politely when they met the buggy, but Wharton looked surly. The girl with the black hair looked sharply at Judith, and then again at Crittenden, and smiled. She must have cared little for her companion, Judith thought, or something for Crittenden, and yet she knew that most women smiled at Crittenden, even when they did not know him very well. Still she asked: "And the other things--you meant other women?" "Yes, and no." "Why no?" "Because I have deceived nobody--not even myself--and Heaven knows I tried that hard enough." "That was one?" she added, smiling. "I thought you knew me better than to ask such a question." Again Judith smiled--scanning him closely. "No, you aren't so very old--nor world-weary, after all." "No?" "No. And you have strong hands--and wrists. And your eyes are--" she seemed almost embarrassed--"are the eyes of a good man, in spite of what you say about yourself; and I would trust them. And it was very fine in you to talk as you did when we were tearing up that hill a moment ago." Crittenden turned with a start of surprise. "Oh," he said, with unaffected carelessness. "You didn't seem to be very nervous." "I trusted you." Crittenden had stopped to pull the self-opening gate, and he drove almost at a slow walk through the pasture toward Judith's home. The sun was reddening through the trees now. The whole earth was moist and fragrant, and the larks were singing their last songs for that happy day. Judith was quite serious now.