The weather was perfect for riding: no sun, a keen breeze from the northwest, and a dust-settled road. Warburton confessed to me afterward that this first ride with her was one of the most splendid he had ever ridden. Both animals were perfect saddle-horses, such as are to be found only in the South. They started up the road at a brisk trot, and later broke into a canter which lasted fully a mile. How beautiful she was, when at length they slowed down into a walk! Her cheeks were flaming, her eyes dancing and full of luster, her hair was tumbled about and tendrils fluttered down her cheeks. She was Diana: only he hoped that she was not inclined to celibacy. What a mistake he had made! He could never get over this gulf which he himself had thrust between them. This was no guise in which to meet a woman of her high breeding. Under his breath he cursed the impulse that had urged him to decline to attend the ball at the British embassy. There he would have met her as his own true self, a soldier, a polished gentleman of the world, of learning and breeding. Nancy would have brought them together, calls would have been exchanged, and he would have defied Karloff. Then he chid himself for the feeling he had against the Russian. Karloff had a right to love this girl, a right which far eclipsed his own. Karloff was Karloff; a handsome fellow, wealthy, agreeable; while James was not James, neither was he wealthy nor at present agreeable. A man can not sigh very well on horseback, and the long breath which left Warburton's lips made a jerking, hissing sound. "Have you ever ridden with women before. James?" "Several times with my major's daughter,"--thoughtlessly. "Your major's daughter? Who was your regimental colonel?" James bit his lips, and under his breath disregarded William's warning about "cussing." "Permit me, Miss Annesley, to decline to answer." "Did you ride as an attendant?" "Yes; I was a trooper." "You speak very good English for a stable-man." "I have not always been a stable-man." "I dare say. I should give a good deal to know what you _have_ been. Come, James, tell me what the trouble was. I have influence; I might help you." "I am past help;"--which was true enough, only the real significance of his words passed over her head. "I thank you for your kindness." If she was piqued, she made no sign. "James, were you once a gentleman, in the sense of being well-born?" "Miss Annesley, you would not believe me if I told you who I am and what I have been." "Are you a deserter?"--looking him squarely in the eye. She saw the color as it crept under his tan. "I have my honorable discharge,"--briefly. "I shall ask you to let me see it. Have you ever committed a dishonorable act? I have a right to know." "I have committed one dishonorable act, Miss Annesley. I shall always regret it." She gave him a penetrating glance. "Very well; keep your secret."