He led his horse out of the path straight ahead through the woods, and she walked beside him. "Of course you know the way, Mr. Cardemon?" she said pleasantly. "I ought to--unless the undergrowth has changed the looks of things since I've been through." "How long is it since you've been through?" "Oh, I can't just recollect," he said carelessly. "I guess it will be all right." For a while they walked steadily forward among the trees; he talking to her with a frank and detached amiability, asking about the people at Estwich, interested to hear that the small house-party had disintegrated, surprised to learn that the countess had gone to town. "Are you entirely alone in the house?" he asked; and his eyes seemed to protrude a little more than usual. "Entirely," she said carelessly; "except for Binns and his wife and the servants." "Why didn't you 'phone a fellow to stop over to lunch?" he asked, suddenly assuming a jovial manner which their acquaintance did not warrant. "We country folk don't stand on ceremony you know." "I did not know it," she said quietly. His bold gaze rested on her again; again the uncertain laugh followed: "If you'd ask me to dine with you to-night I'd take it as a charming concession to our native informality. What do you say, Miss West?" She forced a smile, making a sign of negation with her head, but he began to press her until his importunities and his short, abrupt laughter embarrassed her. "I couldn't ask anybody without permission from my hostess," she said, striving to maintain the light, careless tone which his changing manner toward her made more difficult for her. "Oh, come, Miss West!" he said in a loud humorous voice; "don't pass me the prunes and prisms but be a good little sport and let a fellow come over to see you! You never did give me half a chance to know you, but you're hands across the table with that Ogilvy artist and José Querida--" "I've known them rather longer than I have you, Mr. Cardemon." "That's my handicap! I'm not squealing. All I want is to start in the race--" "What race?" she asked coolly, turning on him a level gaze that, in spite of her, she could not maintain under the stare with which he returned it. And again the slight uneasiness crept over her and involuntarily she looked around her at the woods. "How far is it now?" she inquired. "Are you tired?" "No. But I'm anxious to get back. Could you tell me how near to some road we are?" He halted and looked around; she watched him anxiously as he tossed his bridle over his horse's neck and walked forward into a little glade where the late rays of the sun struck ruddy and warm on the dry grass. "That's singular," he said as she went forward into the open where he stood; "I don't seem to remember this place." "But you know about where we are, don't you?" she asked, resolutely suppressing the growing uneasiness and anxiety.