Forrester glanced around and saw that the horse was ambling along by himself and already some distance away. Forrester started after the horse at a run, and thought with deep chagrin that the girl standing back there in the road was probably laughing at him. To run before a new acquaintance is never a graceful performance. He had seen a spirit of mischief lurking in the girl’s eyes and he half suspected that her horse could have been recalled without this display of energy on his part. Probably it was his punishment for attempting to compliment her on such short acquaintance. Forrester caught the horse without difficulty, which convinced him that his supposition regarding the girl’s purpose was correct. He took advantage of the return trip with the horse to study her carefully and deliberately; partly for his own information and partly to punish her for sending him after the horse. He had already noted that her hair was slightly reddish in hue and very abundant, and that her eyes were brown. He now observed that she was tall, but not too tall, and slender, but not too slender. She was attired in a brown linen riding suit, with tan boots, and a white straw sailor hat. Whether accidentally or by design, the hat was tilted at just the right angle. That she was athletic and a good horsewoman was evidenced by her quick recovery from what would have been a very bad fall for the average woman. She greeted him with a smile as he neared her. "My, how you can run!" she exclaimed. That he had been put on exhibition Forrester was now sure, and his resentment must have shown in his face, for she added, soothingly, "It is awfully good of you to take so much trouble for a stranger." Forrester was distinctly attracted to the girl. She was so different from girls that he knew. He could not recollect a girl of his acquaintance who possessed such unquestionable beauty and engaging personality, combined with a self-reliance that detracted not a jot from her femininity. Small wonder that he felt a poignant regret that they were about to part and probably never meet again. Almost unconsciously his thoughts took the form of words. "Must we remain strangers?" he asked. "Perhaps," she answered, placing her foot in the stirrup and vaulting lightly into the saddle. She smiled down at him and then, with a wave of her hand, started at a gallop up the road. Forrester stood a moment watching her retreating figure. "Perhaps!" he repeated to himself. "How am I to take that? ’Perhaps’ might mean anything—yes, or no, or maybe. Who the deuce can she be? I’ll have to ask Josephine if she knows her."