So Mostyn mused. The only thing that troubled him really was what Pierce would say about his quixotic conduct. Pierce did not seem as sanguine as Mostyn upon the subject of the purchase of a colt suitable to run in the Derby; Pierce, too, had expressed decided approval of Castor, and would probably call his friend a fool for having given him up. And Mostyn hated above all things appearing a fool, either in his own eyes or those of anyone else; which perhaps accounted for the great desire that was in him to set himself right with Rada. Upon his way home, taking a short cut, he had to pass by a footway that led through some meadows and then skirted a little wood, a path that was very popular with the young people of the neighbourhood, and which had been given the name of "Lovers' Walk." So it happened that he was not at all astonished when, upon a bench conveniently placed in the shadow of a large elm, a bench set back a little from the footpath and partially concealed by the leafy branches of the tree, he found a man and a girl seated in the usual close proximity to each other. It was not, however, till he came abreast with them that he recognised Jack Treves and Rada. The girl, hearing footsteps, had started to her feet. Jack remained seated, his long legs stretched out, and his lips curved derisively as Mostyn approached. Rada had flushed red and she took a step forward, as though she would have spoken to Mostyn; then she changed her mind and merely recognised his presence by a little perfunctory nod of her head. As for Mostyn himself, after a quick glance at Jack, he altogether ignored that individual. He raised his hat to Rada and passed on his way. He walked on without turning his head, unconscious of the scowl that followed him and the muttered oath. But all the beauty had gone out of the day for him, all the colour from the trees and hedges. He saw a stretch of ugly, undulating, monotonous country, devoid of charm. It depressed him. "What possesses her to care for a fellow like that?" he muttered under his breath. "A low-down cad, and one whom it isn't safe for her to be about with? She must know his reputation, and how everyone's talking about him and Daisy Simpson even now. Why, I saw him with Daisy only this morning outside the stables! I saw him kiss her." Mostyn waved his stick and viciously decapitated an unoffending dandelion as he spoke. It was quite true that Jack Treves enjoyed, literally enjoyed, for he was proud of it, a bad reputation in Partinborough. Those gossips, the Willis's, were responsible for Mostyn's knowledge. Mrs. Willis hated to see her dearly beloved Rada in Jack's company, and spoke her mind fluently on the subject. "Let him stick to his Daisy Simpson," she said. "Daisy's good enough for the likes of him. They're birds of a feather. But Miss Rada is a lady, though her father's an old drunkard, and there's the width of the world between her and that scapegrace Jack."