"To someone you could not see, my good grammarian," she said, and hoped a little fearfully for further questions. He turned in the saddle and looked back, and for the sake of the strong, easy twist of his body she forgave his lack of curiosity as he said: "Fancies again?" And she said: "Yes; fancies." He was content to remain ignorant of them, as he had often been before. He had no desire to enter into that very real part of her existence, and she blocked out her disappointment with a quick word of another nature. "I like you best in your riding things." She was never tired of summing up the things she liked in him. He smiled and let his eyes run over her trim, green figure, the thick plaits of hair under the little hat. She nodded. "I know what you are thinking. You are congratulating yourself that I'm quite presentable, in spite of my intolerable past." "Will you never stop teasing me about that? As if I'm not as proud of it as you are!" "Then I have taught you how to be." "I'm willing to acknowledge my teacher. But I wasn't thinking that. You look so fair and free--like the breath of the morning." "Oh ho! Aren't we being nice to each other? And who is having fancies now? Basil"--she could never let a wound fester in her--"Basil, I wish you'd want me to tell you everything." "But I do. What is it you want to say?" She controlled the petulance of her lips. "Would you like me to have secrets?" "I can't imagine your having them." Under her gauntlets the muscles of her hands were tightened. The promise of possession had very slightly changed his attitude towards her, and she resented his security. She was not willing that he should have no doubts, even had there been no cause for them. She wanted the old uncertainty, the old waiting on her moods. He grew more loving, more demonstrative, but he was less her servant, and she stretched against the bonds; but if he were so little eager to know the utmost of her, so impervious to jealousy or to hints, then she could in honesty keep her cherished silence. She changed the subject. They were happiest when their talk was clear of personalities. Discussions about tenants, the wisdom of giving help there or refusing it here, and information from Morton about crops and the raising of cattle, drew them into a closer comradeship. But to-day Theresa's questions were half-hearted, and had Morton been less enthusiastic he would have noticed that she did not listen. The day was of a new-washed clearness, but it seemed to her that someone had smudged it with a dirty hand; and in her breast was the vague longing that was like a hole there, while the clamorous voices, stilled for a little while, were taking deep breaths as if they would test their powers.