He fell back into step with her and they swung along, appraising each other while they talked--only Stephanie's appraisal was also with a woman's natural intuition. And the more she appraised him the less she liked him, but the more she set herself to win him--slowly and discreetly, as a clever woman knows so well how to do. And for all his shrewdness in the affairs of men, he was as a child in the ways of women. Presently they came to a stile and Stephanie paused. "I leave the highway here," she said. "I go back through the fields--there is a path running around the hill. Do you know it?" "No--but I should like to know it," he invited. "Won't you show it to me?" "It will take you out of your course!" she suggested. "I have no course this morning but the one you fix," he said. "Take care, _m'sieur_!" she warned. "I may be a poor--navigator." "I'll risk it, _madame_--both your skill as a pilot and your ability as a captain." She shot him a look from under her long lashes. "Very well," she replied and sprang lightly to the stile. He was before her at the steps, however, with hand extended to help her.... For just an instant, her fingers rested in his; then dropped them, and she was over. A faint smile touched his lips as he followed. The path was scarcely wide enough for two; and the high grass on either side confined it even more, so that he was perforce obliged to walk just a shade behind--and talking is difficult when one precedes the other. But it gave him a fine opportunity to observe the woman before him, and he made the best of it. The morning sun was spinning her auburn hair to gleaming copper, and beneath the dead white of her cheek the blood pulsed faintly pink. The trim, slender figure was, for all its seeming listlessness, alive with latent energy and spirit--her shoulders, even under her jacket, he could see were beautifully proportioned, her neck was slender and long, but not too long--and her feet, even in the heavy shoes, were slim and arched, and she put them down _well--distinctly well_. A subtle perfume floated back to him, and he found himself bending forward to catch a fuller fragrance. Then the path widened and, half turning, she waited for him to draw up. "This path evidently wasn't made by the socially inclined," he said. "It wasn't. It was made originally by the cattle which pastured here--and do so still," she added, as they passed a copse of trees and undergrowth and came upon a herd of a dozen cows with a brawny bull at their head. The latter, at the sight of the two strangers who were invading his domain, flung up his head and stared at them with a distinctly hostile air. "His Majesty does not seem pleased with us!" she laughed. "No--I should say we don't make a favorable impression, judging from his attitude," he answered, glancing carelessly toward the animals. "He's not properly appreciative of the honor you do him, Mr. Porshinger," she remarked.