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Strangely, she discovered that it had been sweet to find him always governed
by her desire or will.
"Maybe you misunderstand," he began, presently. And his voice was not steady.
"I don't forget I'm only--a beggarly rider. I couldn't have gone into the Ford
at all--I was such a ragamuffin--"
"Don't talk like that!" interrupted Lucy, impatiently.
"Listen," he replied. "My askin' Bostil for you doesn't mean I've any hope.
. . . It's just I want him an' everybody to know that I asked."
"But Dad--everybody will think that YOU think there's reason--why--I--why,
you OUGHT to ask," burst out Lucy, with scarlet face.
"Sure, that's it," he replied.
"But there's no reason. None! Not a reason under the sun," retorted Lucy,
hotly. "I found you out here. I did you a--a little service. We planned to
race Wildfire. And I came out to ride him. . . . That's all."
Slone's dark, steady gaze disconcerted Lucy. "But, no one knows me, and we've
been alone in secret."
"It's not altogether--that. I--I told Auntie," faltered Lucy.


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