There were two other incidents of that holiday that stood out in his memory for many years. The first dawn of adolescence stirred in him, disquieting, but wonderful. Muriel awakened him, Muriel the vivacious, sixteen, home from school in Belgium, the prettiest of the Vernley girls and just ready to fall in love for the simple adventure of it. They liked each other at sight; she admired his slim grace, the brown healthiness of his skin, the fine ring in his laughter; he, her elusive charm and tomboyish air. Her quick, witty chatter in English or French was music to the enchanted John; and she rode her horse like a princess. Each morning, after breakfast, three or four mounts were brought round from the stables, the groom waiting until the riding party was ready. Sometimes Vernley and Kitty made up the quartette, with John and Muriel. John sat his horse superbly, the legacy of Amasian days, with the result that he and Muriel were often far in advance of the other couple, for Vernley rolled on his seat like a sack, and Kitty acted as whipper-in. One morning, after a breathless gallop, John and Muriel found themselves alone together on the white road running through a little copse of birch trees. The girth of Muriel's saddle had slackened, and John helped her to dismount and tightened it. Then slipping their reins over their arms, they walked the horses on to the soft turf bordering the road. On a barren bough a robin began to sing cheerfully. Muriel gave a little cry of delight, and as John looked at her, his flesh thrilled with her laughter. She was flushed, with her fair hair falling over two pink ears, and as she turned to him with her beautiful eyes, she caught him in the act of open admiration. Muriel looked away, pretending she had not noticed. "Shall we mount and get on?" she said awkwardly. She placed one foot in the stirrup, and John placed his hand under the other to help her into the saddle. It was the first time he had ever touched her and a queer self-consciousness caused him to bungle, for she failed to gain the saddle. The horse moved, and Muriel fell back into his arms. It was an accident which John took as a gift from the gods. He gave an awkward little laugh as he looked down into her timid eyes and she tried to hide her face on his shoulder. The soft brushing of her hair on his cheek gave him courage; holding her in his strong young arms, he raised her face with one hand and saw the laughter in her eyes. Then deliberately he kissed her lips, her soft wavy hair falling over his brow, her arms pressed tight and warm around his neck. It was a moment's delight, with no passion in it--only youth discovering youth and thrilled with the wonder of it.