Mrs. Greaves wondered how long it would be before he awoke to the fact that his wife was indulging in pious flirtations that were regarded by the station with good-natured amusement. One afternoon she was astonished to meet Rafella riding demurely along the Mall with Mr. Kennard. The man was a barrister, handsome, successful, in the prime of his maturity, but his moral reputation was anything but good. If Rafella had schemes for reforming this gentleman, serious trouble would certainly follow. George Coventry was hardly the man to look on and laugh at a dangerous friendship; Rafella's little team of harmless young men was a different matter altogether. Mrs. Greaves's expression as she returned their salutations must have betrayed her surprised apprehension, for Rafella flushed as she nodded, and Mr. Kennard smiled with sardonic understanding. "Evidently that woman thinks I'm not a fit companion for you," he said to Rafella as they rode on beneath the trees. "She's always had her knife into me, though she poses as a model of charity and soft-heartedness. What a pity it is when lemon juice is blended with the milk of human kindness! I don't know why she should try to do me harm, unless it's because I have never gone out of my way to propitiate her; but, then," he added with flattering emphasis, "there are very few women I care to make friends with." Rafella felt that this was not what she should have expected of Mrs. Greaves. It only showed how mistaken one might be in one's estimate of other people's natures. She answered sympathetically: "How narrow-minded of her. I shouldn't pay any attention to what she thought or said." "I don't," he assured her; "and may I say that I hope you won't either?" He reined his horse a little closer to Rafella's and looked into her eyes with subtle appeal. "Of course I shouldn't," she said, returning his gaze with innocent encouragement. "I always take people as I find them, and I never listen to gossip." He just touched her arm with his own in grateful appreciation. "That's a relief to my mind," he told her. "You don't know how hard it is to live down indiscretions, even when they may not have been all one's own fault. Some day, if you will let me, I should like to tell you a lot about myself, though there is no reason why I should bother you with my affairs." Rafella's heart went out to him. All the little confidences of her boy admirers seemed trivial in comparison with the unfortunate experiences of this man of the world. She was well aware that he was ill-spoken of by the more scrupulous members of the community; but she felt convinced he was misjudged, and even if there should be truth in such reports as she had heard, surely sympathy and kindness from a woman who was good was all he needed to enable him to make amends for everything, however regrettable, that might have happened in the past.