‘Thank you, Mr. Sybert,’ she smiled sweetly; ‘you are very kind, but I shouldn’t think of troubling you. I know that Aunt Katherine would like to have you go with her to call on the contessa.’ ‘If you will permit it. Miss Marcia, I will ride with you instead; for though I should be happy to call on Contessa Torrenieri with Mrs. Copley, I have just driven out from Tivoli, and by way of change I should prefer not driving back.’ ‘It’s awfully kind of you to offer, but I don’t really want to ride. I was just cross with Angelo for going off without saying anything.’ ‘Marcia,’ remonstrated Mrs. Copley, ‘that doesn’t sound polite.’ Sybert laughed. ‘There is nothing, Miss Marcia,’ he declared, ‘that would give me more pleasure this afternoon than a gallop with you; and with your permission——’ he touched the bell. Marcia shrugged her shoulders and gave the order as Pietro appeared. ‘Send word to the stables for Kentucky Lil and Triumvirate to be saddled at once.’ ‘You may go upstairs and borrow as much of Howard’s wardrobe as you wish,’ said Mrs. Copley. ‘I dare say you did not come prepared to play the part of groom.’ ‘I’ll try not to get them muddier than necessary,’ he promised as he turned toward the stairs. He reappeared shortly in corduroys and leather puttees. Marcia was leaning on the loggia balustrade, idly watching the hills, while a diminutive stable-boy slowly led the horses back and forth in the driveway. Sybert helped her to mount without a word, and they galloped down the avenue in silence. He appreciated the fact that she would have preferred staying at home to accepting his escort, and the situation promised some slight entertainment. A man inclined to be a trifle sardonic can find considerable amusement in the spectacle of a pretty girl who does not wish to talk to him, but finds herself in a position where she cannot escape. As Sybert had been passing a very hard week, he was the more willing to enjoy a little relaxation at Marcia’s expense. They pulled their horses to a walk at the gateway, and Sybert looked at her interrogatively. She took the lead and turned to the left along the winding roadway that led up into the mountains away from the Via Prænestina. He rode up beside her again, and they galloped on without speaking. Marcia did not propose to take the initiative in any conversation; he could introduce a subject if he wished, otherwise they would keep still. For the first mile or so he maintained the stolid reserve of a well-trained groom. But finally, as they slowed the horses to a walk on a steep hill-side, he broke the silence. ‘Are we going anywhere, or just riding for pleasure?’ ‘Just for pleasure.’ He waited until they had reached the top of the hill before renewing the conversation. Then, ‘It is a pleasant day,’ he observed. Marcia regarded the landscape critically. ‘Very pleasant,’ she acquiesced. ‘Looks a little like rain, however,’ he added, anxiously fixing his eye on a small cloud on the horizon.