He untethered her horse while he murmured an answer. But for his attitude she cared little so long as she had him riding away from that house on the hill where Lord Nick in all his terror would appear in some few minutes. Besides, as they swung up the road--the chestnut at a long-strided canter and Nelly's black at a soft and choppy pace--the wind of the gallop struck into her face; Nelly was made to enjoy things one by one and not two by two. They hit over the hills, and when the first impulse of the ride was done they were a mile or more away from The Corner--and Lord Nick. The resemblance between the two men was less striking now that she had Donnegan beside her. He seemed more wizened, paler, and intense as a violin string screwed to the snapping point; there was none of the lordly tolerance of Nick about him; he was like a bull terrier compared with a stag hound. And only the color of his eyes and his hair made her make the comparison at all. "What could be better?" she said when they checked their horses on a hilltop to look over a gradual falling of the ground below. "What could be better?" The wind flattened a loose curl of hair against her cheek, and overhead the wild geese were flying and crying, small and far away. "One thing better," said Donnegan, "and that is to sit in a chair and see this." She frowned at such frankness; it was almost blunt discourtesy. "You see, I'm a lazy man." "How long has it been," the girl asked sharply, "since you have slept?" "Two days, I think." "What's wrong?" He lifted his eyes slowly from a glittering, distant rock, and brought his glance toward her by degrees. He had a way of exciting people even in the most commonplace conversation, and the girl felt a thrill under his look. "That," said Donnegan, "is a dangerous question." And he allowed such hunger to come into his eye that she caught her breath. The imp of perversity made her go on. "And why dangerous?" It was an excellent excuse for an outpouring of the heart from Donnegan, but, instead, his eyes twinkled at her. "You are not frank," he remarked. She could not help laughing, and her laughter trailed away musically in her excitement. "Having once let down the bars I cannot keep you at arm's length. After last night I suppose I should never have let you see me for--days and days." "That's why I'm curious," said Donnegan, "and not flattered. I'm trying to find what purpose you have in taking me riding." "I wonder," she said thoughtfully, "if you will." And since such fencing with the wits delighted her, she let all her delight come with a sparkle in her eyes. "I have one clue." "Yes?" "And that is that you may have the old-woman curiosity to find out how many ways a man can tell her that he's fond of her." Though she flushed a little she kept her poise admirably. "I suppose that is part of my interest," she admitted.