Mostyn knew that this was not true, that Captain Armitage was the last man in the world to disgorge any money that he had become possessed of by any means whatsoever. He knew, too, that there were certainly no funds upon which Rada could draw, and he wondered vaguely how she proposed to raise a thousand pounds to repay him. "I'd far sooner give you the horse," he said, "for, after all, I should be returning you your own. I want to have a shot for the next Derby, Miss Armitage," he went on, "and it isn't only because I have a sort of a bet with you. That's a motive with me, certainly, but it isn't all. However, I can find another horse, and really the money is of no importance to me. We are rivals, you and I, both eager to win, but both wanting to play the game fairly. You shall have Castor and I will look out for myself; is that a bargain?" "Not unless I can pay you the thousand pounds," she retorted. "But if I can succeed in doing that, and without undue delay, Castor shall be mine again, and our rivalry can begin as soon as ever you like." She laughed derisively. "If it does, I don't think there'll be much chance for you, Mr. Clithero." He shrugged his shoulders, seeing no use in argument. He did not want to accept Rada's thousand pounds, but he had sense to see that it was quite useless, as matters stood, to suggest any other solution of the difficulty. "It shall be just as you please, Miss Armitage," he said with an effort to appear cheerful. "I'm going to do my best to win the Derby, but it won't be with Castor." She rose from the bench upon which she had been sitting and once more extended her cold hand. "Thank you," she said. "There's nothing more to be settled for the present between us. You shall have your money and I my horse. That's decided." Mostyn held her hand in his for a moment, despite her effort to withdraw it. He looked straight into her eyes. "I wonder," he said, "why we always meet to quarrel? I should like to be on better terms with you, Miss Armitage. We can be rivals and yet good friends, can't we? I am sorry that this misunderstanding should have happened, but really I'm not to blame." He released the girl's hand, which fell to her side. Rada tapped the ground petulantly with her foot. Truth to tell, she was a little ashamed of herself. Mostyn may not have been so much to blame, after all; her father had a plausible tongue. But she was in a mood when to admit herself in the wrong would have been an impossibility for her. Had Mostyn been wise he would have left her alone; reflection and repentance would have come in due course. As it was, she hated him at that moment even for his offer to return Castor to her. How dared he even think that she would consent to such a thing?