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have stayed on for less money, but the boss thought I shouldn’t do that.”

All was well again between them then, Ann reflected; and she was glad.

She wondered if Rodney would apologize now for what he had said that morning. No, he wasn’t likely to do that. It was difficult—almost impossible—for him to admit, in so many words, that he was ever in the wrong. Stubborn and pig-headed, that’s what he was, Ann reflected; and yet, in spite of everything, how dear! As he stood before her in his old dusty riding clothes, she knew that even though she might some day be married to another man, just the name of Rodney would make her heart leap in her breast, as it had done this morning when she first caught sight of him.

But if in words he couldn’t express regret for his past conduct, his queer brusque manner—his awkward greeting—was an index to his thought.

“Got a race card?” he asked.

Ann shook her head. He pulled one out of his pocket.

“Take mine.”

“You’ll want it.”

“I can get another easy enough.”

“But you’ve marked this.”

“Yes. If you want to know what I’m going to back, they’re there—use the tips yourself if you like—but don’t give them away. Of course they mayn’t be any good—they’re only my fancy.”

“Thank you so much.”

They stood there facing one another, conversation at an end.