“Yes, it’s I,” he said hurriedly, leaning forward. “Get in and I’ll take you for a spin.” She drew away, shaking her head. The spirited horse, excited by its run, began to bite at the bit, arch its neck and back prancingly. Jerry had to withdraw his attention from the girl, and, swearing in a soft undertone, bestow it on the animal. “Come, June,” he said, trying to speak coaxingly, “there’s no harm in driving for half an hour with me. This is a new horse I’m trying for Black Dan and it’s a perfect stunner.” She murmured a refusal, backing away from the wheels. The horse paused for a moment in its curvetings and Jerry had an opportunity to look at her and say in his most compelling tone: “I only want you to drive up a mile or two with me. It’s a glorious afternoon, and it’s worth something to ride behind a horse like this. I’m not going to say anything to you you won’t like to hear. You needn’t be afraid. You and I are too old friends not to trust each other.” She wavered. “Come, get in,” he said, his voice soft and making an urgent upward movement with his chin, that seemed to draw her into the buggy as his hand might. She put her foot on the step and the next moment was beside him. The horse leaped forward and the road began to flash by like a yellow ribbon. For some moments they were silent, Jerry with his eyes on the road ahead. They whirled round one of the projecting spurs of the mountain and, seeing the long curve before them clear of vehicles, he turned and looked at her. His eyes as they met hers were hard and angry. “I’ve been hearing things about you!” he said. “Things! What things?” “I fancy you know.” “I don’t know what you mean,” she answered uneasily. “What sort of things?” “The last sort of things in the world I want to hear.” She looked away making no answer and he said: “I’ve heard that Rion Gracey is in love with you.” “Oh, is that it?” she commented in a low voice. Her manner irritated him. She did not seem to realize the seriousness of the charge. “Yes--that’s it,” he replied, continuing to regard her with a look of pugnacious ill-humor. She again made no reply and he persisted angrily: “Is he?” “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s not fair. You’ve no right to ask.” “No right to ask!” he exclaimed in enraged amazement. “No right to ask! My God, that’s a remark for you to make to me!” He turned his face to the horse, his mouth set, his lips compressing words that he dared not utter. It was evidently all true. The thought that she might be already engaged to Rion entered his mind, carrying with it a sensation of appalling blankness. With a flash of revealing truth he saw that his life, with June completely gone from it, would be for ever savorless and without meaning. He had not realized before how much he cared for her. For a space there was silence. They sped round another buttress and saw an unobstructed semicircle of road before them. Without looking at her he said abruptly: