"But you barely spoke to each other. I am sure I thought you two were the best of friends--really intimate in fact. Yet you seemed on the most indifferent terms just now," said she, incredulously. Lance smiled carelessly, and reached out for one of the roses in her lap. "My dear little sister," said he, "who can answer for the vagaries of woman? Mrs. Vance has always been exceedingly friendly with me, but she seems to have taken an opposite whim just now. But it would not be fair to question her motives, would it? Men have to bear the caprices of women without complaint--do they not? I believe one of the best of the female poets claims _caprice_ as a _right divine_ of the fair sex." "Oh, yes. Mrs. Osgood says: "''Tis helpless woman's right divine, Her only right--caprice,'" returned Ada, repeating the quotation with a very pretty emphasis. "Then let us not question Mrs. Vance's right to exercise her divine prerogative. I dare not rebel--I must only submit. And, by the way, begging your pardon for changing the subject, will you ride with me this evening? I came expressly to ask you. I have my new phaeton and cream-white ponies--the ones I purchased for Lily's use," said he, with a smothered sigh. She went to the window to look at them. How beautiful, how proud, how thoroughbred were the restive creatures champing at their silver bits, impatient of the little groom's restraint--how exquisite the costly little phaeton with its luxurious cushions of azure satin, and the azure satin carriage-robe thickly embroidered with white lilies. The equipage was dainty enough for Queen Mab herself. Ada sighed as she thought of the beautiful form that had chosen the rest of the coffin rather than these downy cushions to recline upon. "It is beautiful," she said, "rarely beautiful. Yes, I will ride with you in the park, Lance. Wait a minute until I get on my wrappings, for I believe it is a little chilly to-day." She tripped away lightly. Lance looked after her with an affectionate glance. "A dear, sweet girl," he thought to himself; "surely Mrs. Vance misunderstands her, for I am sure she is true and sweet and kind. How like she grows to Lily." She came back presently, cloaked and heavily veiled. "Are you ready?" he asked. "Not quite," she answered. "I had forgotten to put my bouquets into the vases." She tripped around and disposed of her flowers in the various vases that adorned the room, then came back to him. "Now, I am ready," said she. They went out, took their places in the dainty phaeton, the little groom in blue and silver sprang into his place, and they were whirled swiftly away. From an upper window Mrs. Vance was watching for the young man's departure. She started as she saw him drive off with Ada beside him, and a lurid fire of rage and jealousy blazed in her heart.