Rada paled as she listened. "He is not in danger?" she asked eagerly; then, reassured by Pierce's smile, she drew her breath in sharply. "Of course you wouldn't be here if he was. But how brave of him: he saved the child's life?" "Yes, he saved the child's life," repeated Pierce. "He fell from his own momentum when he had got back upon the kerb. It was just outside David Isaacson's house, and they carried him inside and made him as comfortable as they could. He's there now; he'll be well in a week or so, but, of course, it was all up with the Derby. Poor chap, he won't see one of the finest races that we have been promised for years. His own horse, too, pitted against yours, Miss Armitage." The girl said little, but the colour returned only slowly to her cheeks. A sense of faintness had come upon her when she had learnt of Mostyn's accident, and this had revealed to her, more forcibly than ever, how much she really cared. She did care. What was the use of attempting to deceive herself? That day when Mostyn's lips had met hers she had learnt that she loved--yes, though she had torn herself away crying aloud that she hated him. Then he had gone away, and she had eagerly desired him to return. She had written to him, and, like a foolish man, he had taken her letter far more literally than she had intended it. She had expressed her desire to be friends, and had hinted her approval of Jack Treves because he had promised not to "bother" her with love-making that year. She would have broken with Jack, ready to defy him and her father, if Mostyn had spoken again, if he had shown any desire to be more than just the friend he now professed to be. She had given him plenty of hints--or thought she had--but Mostyn had been too blind to see them. So poor Rada had concluded that he did not care any more; that, if he had ever cared, the love he bore her had been killed, perhaps by her own folly. There was a time when she had seen her way to paying off her debts, and her father's debts, to Jack Treves. Castor had done so well, and promised to do better in the future. But in the meanwhile fresh debts were incurred, so that, indeed, when she had opened her heart to Mostyn in the paddock at Newmarket, it was true that she was more closely bound to Jack than before. And yet she could not help thinking that the latter had grown tired of her--no wonder, perhaps, since she treated him with scant ceremony--and, as for herself, how sick and tired she had grown of a bond that galled and vexed her! She had come to hate Jack Treves: yet what did it matter what became of her since Mostyn had ceased to care?