Her eyes moved under his, but they did not turn aside. "I think I'm going there with some one else," she said softly, and before her vision of this eager lover there popped a spruce picture of Uncle Alfred. "That isn't true," Halkett said, but despair was in his voice. She was angered instantly. "I beg your pardon?" "It isn't true," he said again. "Very well," she said, and she began to walk away, but he called after her vehemently, bitterly, "Because I won't let you go!" She laughed at that and came back to her place, to say indulgently, "How silly you are! I'm only going with an aged uncle!" "But he's not the man to take you there." "No." "Come with me now." "Shall I?" "Get up beside me and I'll carry you away." She was held by his trouble, but she spoke lightly. "Could he swim with us both across the Channel? No, I don't think I want to come tonight. Some day--" "When?" "Oh," she said on a high note, "perhaps when I'm very tired of things." "You're tired already." "Not so much as that. And we're talking nonsense, and I must go." "Not yet." "I must. It's nearly time for bed, and I'm not sure that it's polite of you to sit on that horse while I stand here." "Come up and you'll see how well he goes." "He wouldn't bear us both." "Pooh! You're a feather." "Oh, I couldn't. Wouldn't he jump?" "He'd better try!" "Now, don't be cruel to him." "What do you know about it? I've ridden since I could walk." "Lucky you!" "I'll teach you." "Could you?" "Give me a chance." "Here's one! No, no, I didn't mean it," she cried as he dismounted and lifted her to the saddle. "Oh, I feel so high up. Don't move him till I get used to it. I'm not safe on this saddle. Put me a little further on, George. That's further forward! I'm nearly on his neck. No, I don't think I like it. Take me down." "Keep still." The words were almost threatening in the gloom. "Sit steady. I'm coming up." "No, don't. I shall fall off!" But already he was behind her, holding her closely with one arm. "There! He's quiet enough. I couldn't do this with Daisy. And he's sure-footed. He was bred on the moor." He set the horse trotting gently. "He goes well, doesn't he?" "Yes." "Don't you like it?" "Ye-es." "What's the matter?" "There isn't room enough," she said, and moved her shoulders. He spoke in her ear. "If I don't hold you, you'll fall off. Here's a smooth bit coming. Now, lad, show us what you can do and remember what you're carrying!"