It was not, however, the faint resemblance that had impressed her, but a vague something in his manner, his grace, his half-veiled insolence, his poise in the saddle.

She had only seen Lance Courthorne on a few occasions when she was very young, but she had seen others of his race, and the man reminded her of them.

Still, she felt half-instinctively that as yet it would be better that nobody should know this, and she stooped over some lace on the table as she answered the elder lady.
"I only know one, and it is convincing.

That Lance should have done what he is credited with doing, is quite impossible." Miss Barrington smiled.

"I almost believe so, too, but others of his family have done such things somewhat frequently.