"Same here. I suppose the excitement and unexpectedness of the toss saved me. I was in an awful funk, though--er--I mean I was awfully scared. You see it was all so unexpected. I didn't know these things ever attacked people." "They are apt to be dangerous in a half-tame condition, but ours are shut up in a separate part of the park. I have yet to find out how this one got loose." "What would I have done if you hadn't come up?" she repeated. "I should certainly have been killed." Wagram thought that such would very likely have been the case, but he answered: "I think you might have been considerably injured. You see, when you got to the gate over there, you would have had to slow down and jump off." "Rather. And--oh, my poor bike! It's past praying for, utterly." "Well, it's past mending, that's certain. But--er--of course, you must allow us to make good the loss. As a matter of hard law you need have no scruple about this. It was destroyed on our property by an animal belonging to us, and on a public road." "A public road!" she echoed. "Then I was not trespassing?" "No. This is a right-of-way, though I don't mind admitting that we have often wished it wasn't," he added with a smile. Inwardly he was puzzling as to who this girl could be. She was aware of his own identity, for she had addressed him by name; but he was absolutely convinced he had never seen her before. She was a handsome girl, too, very handsome. She had a clear, brunette skin, through which the colour would mantle as she grew animated, fine eyes of a light hazel, and an exceedingly attractive smile. In build she was square shouldered and of full outline, and though not exactly tall was of a good height for a woman. She was plainly dressed, but well, in a light blouse and grey bicycle skirt, and her manner was natural and unaffected. Yet with all these attractions Wagram decided that she was just not quite in the same social scale. Who could she be? "Oh, but, Mr Wagram, I'm sure you must be hurt," she broke in, as he rose from dusting down her bicycle skirt--she had sustained wonderfully little damage, even outwardly, from her fall. "Why, what is this?" catching sight of his ripped waistcoat. "Blood, too! Good heavens! Did it strike you with its horns? Oh, you must get it seen to at once. I have read somewhere that the wound from an animal's horn is frightfully dangerous." "Well, it wasn't the horn this time, it was the hoof. But I assure you the thing is a mere scratch; I daresay it might have been worse but for the waistcoat. As it is, it's nothing." "Really? Seriously, mind?" "Seriously. But if you always turn your reading to such practical account as you did just now, it'll be good for other people all along the line. It was even better than plucky, for it showed a quickness and readiness of resource rare among women, and by no means so widely distributed among men as we like to imagine."