Although she spoke quietly, a touch of hardness had invaded her voice; and Richardson had no answer to give her. His cheerful, easy-going nature had rarely been so deeply stirred. A new and delightful experience seemed to be taking an unlooked-for turn, and his lame attempts at self-defence in the third person struck him as bordering on the grotesque. He set his teeth and flicked the pony viciously; then hauled at his mouth because he broke into a canter. Yet he was a tender-hearted man. "Poor little beast! Don't treat him like that," she rebuked him, between jest and earnest, "What's wrong? The city seems to have disagreed with you." Again he did not answer: and for a time they drove on without speaking, each, if the truth be told, thinking of the other. Then she startled him with one of her direct, inconsequent questions. "Mr Richardson, how old are you?" He laughed. "Just thirty. Why?" "I was only wondering. You're the sort of man who ought to marry. Have you never thought of it yet?" "No. Too little money. Besides, I'm a lazy beggar, and I shirk the responsibility." "That means you've never been in love!" "I suppose not. Nothing more serious than a passing inclination. Mere growing pains!" He smiled at the remembrance of a certain romantic episode in his early twenties. "What's your notion? Have I been overdosing you with my company that you are so keen to marry me off?" "Don't talk nonsense. I was simply thinking of you. You've the right stuff in you for a husband. But personally, I prefer you unattached. I should probably quarrel with your wife; and she would break up our friendship; which would be a thousand pities." "Mrs Lenox--d'you mean that? Do you really value it one little bit?" His repressed eagerness puzzled her, and she lifted her eyebrows. "But yes, _mon ami_! Would I go about with you so much if I didn't? I have failings enough, Heaven knows, but insincerity is not one of them. By the way, am I to put you on my other side to-night? Wouldn't you prefer Mrs Norton, or Mrs Lacy Smith for a change? I couldn't get the Desmonds; and Eldred hates my poor little party in consequence." "So shall I, if you banish me from your end of the table." "Well, that settles it. Two conspicuously large men in open mutiny would be more than the rest of us could stand!" They swerved in between the gate-posts, and drew rein as she spoke. The sound of their wheels had brought Lenox into the verandah. "It's high time you were back again, you two," he said, with a touch of decision, as he lifted his wife from the cart. "I was wondering what had come to you. See you again at eight, Dick." And Richardson, having quite recovered from his bad quarter of an hour, drove off humming the refrain of a song Quita had sung to him a few evenings back. After all, so long as she liked him, and valued his friendship, she was welcome to hate the supposed unknown, whose identity she must never be allowed to guess.