Little specks of sand, churned up in the momentary stampede of hoofs, fell upon her skirt.

For the rest, she watched the struggle composedly, a struggle which was over almost as soon as it was begun.
Captain Griffiths leaned down from his trembling but subdued horse.
"Lady Cranston!" he exclaimed in astonishment.
"That's me," she replied, smiling up at him.

"Have you been riding off your bad temper ?" He glanced down at his horse's quivering sides.

Back as far as one could see there was that regular line of hoof marks.
"Am I bad-tempered ?" he asked.
"Well," she observed, "I don't know you well enough to answer that question.

I was simply thinking of yesterday evening." He slipped from his horse and stood before her.