"Someone sent the Professor a copy," said Gay carelessly. "It had a note of interrogation against it, and was meant to be rude, I think. I wonder who it is that takes so much trouble about poor little me?" The door opened pat on the question, and Lossie Holden came in, a radiant apparition, but as Rensslaer was introduced, "society," he said to himself, then glancing at Gay, added "sport" with appreciative emphasis. "What are you looking at?" she said coolly, and took the _Looking-Glass_ from Chris's hand. "How nice! You might almost have posed for it, Gay!" "Do you think so?" Gay inquired. "But I didn't, you know." "Of course not," Lossie agreed. "As if you _could_!" But meeting Chris's eyes, she looked away--he had an excellent idea of who had sent the _Looking-Glass_ to the Professor, and she knew it. "Why don't you drive yourself, Miss Lawless?" said Rensslaer quietly. "Oh, if I only dared!" cried Gay warmly, and clasped her hands together eagerly. "Well," said Rensslaer, "in Berlin there was an outcry when a lady drove for me, but in Vienna it was otherwise--quite a feather in the lady's cap, in short. But then everything is done in such a nice way that it is a pleasure to race there, and the Trotting races are the most fashionable sport in Vienna." Chris's face was grave--the thing was getting beyond a joke. It was all Mackrell's fault, and bad enough, without Rensslaer coming along to encourage wilful Gay in defying public opinion at a sport that his own refusal, and that of Vancouver and others, to take up in England, had practically declared to be unfit for gentlemen. "Why not?" repeated Rensslaer, as he rose to go, and at something in his voice Gay coloured. Surely it could not be possible that he had seen her driving Silver Streak round the track at Inigo Court! But already she knew him well enough to be sure that he would not peach on her, and she longed to see him alone, that they might discuss at their ease his daring suggestion. Gay earnestly begged of him to come again soon, but neither Mackrell nor Chris displayed any marked cordiality on taking leave of him. Lossie only was gracious, that being her way with millionaires. "He seems to regard Trotting as a sort of public-house show," said Carlton, when the other had departed, and Chris remarking rather audibly that Rensslaer was not far out, Gay promptly turned her back on him, and devoted herself to the comforting of her fellow-patron of the noble sport. Very shortly, therefore, with a composure that completely hid his disgust at an exceedingly disagreeable afternoon, instead of the happy one with dear little Gay that Chris had expected, he made his farewells, and departed. Gay, relenting, called out after him: