“Does that mean you want me to go away?” Captain Onslow said these sort of things rather well, and he wanted Lady Susan to look at him and not at the polo. She glanced down at him in recognition. Her glance was charming. “It means----” she began. But there came a thundering of ponies’ hoofs, a race for the ball with the roan pony getting the best of it again, and Captain Onslow had to do without knowing what Lady Susan meant. Slaney sat by Lady Susan as they drove back, flying down through the park with that exhilarating swing and swiftness that belong exclusively to the Dublin outside car. The afternoon was more balmy sweet as the shadows lengthened and the coolness came; beyond the beautiful miles of grass and trees the western sky was gathering the warmth of sunset; opposite in the east, the brown smoke of Dublin stained the tranquil heaven, and above it a ghostly half-moon stood like a little white cloud in the depths of blue. There are moments in life when it is given to some hearts to know their own happiness, and to know it trembling. Come what might, earth’s greatest pleasure was Slaney’s now: she knew it with all the tenderness and strong romance that were hidden in her nature, with all the comprehension of herself that had grown out of a bitter experience. It was a state of mind that seemed incompatible with the prosaic tweed coat-sleeve that rested on the car as Major Bunbury leaned across from the other side; but as he looked at her he understood that the exceeding beauty of the evening had in some way touched her nearly as it was touching him. As has been said, he kept a soul somewhere, and Slaney had found it and entered in. “I want to tell you, Slaney,” said Lady Susan, expressing the position from her own point of view, “I never saw you look as well as you do to-day. I’m awfully glad I made you get that hat. It makes your eyes just the right colour.” Lady Susan was beginning to think of getting out of her arm-chair to dress for dinner that night when her husband came into the room. He did not look as happy as a man ought who has hit two goals for his side and has been at the club afterwards to hear it talked about, and he came and sat on the arm of her chair without speaking. “You don’t feel bad after all that play?” she said, taking his hand and giving him that look of solicitude and affection that can be the best thing in the world to receive. “Not I--I’m as right as possible. I can’t remember that I ever was hurt.” “I hate you riding the grey to-morrow at the show,” she went on; “I shall be miserable all the time. If I were riding him myself I shouldn’t remember that there was any danger--and I suppose there isn’t really--but it’s awfully different to look on. I know it’s very rotten of me to be afraid, but you know I did get an awful fright about you--that time.” He laughed. “You mustn’t think about all that,” he said gently, “that time is over and done with.” There was a pause.