An' how did he?"
"He--he--" Lucy seemed to catch her tongue.
Bostil was positive she had meant to tell him something and suddenly changed
her mind. Subtly the child vanished--a woman remained. Lucy sat up
self-possessed once more. Some powerfully impelling thought had transformed
her. Bostil's keen sense gathered that what she would not tell was not hers to
reveal. For herself, she was the soul of simplicity and frankness.
"Days ago I told him I cared for him," she went on. "But I forbade him to speak
of it to me. He promised. I wanted to wait till after the race--till after I
had found courage to confess to you. He broke his word. . . . Today when he
put me up on Wildfire he--he suddenly lost his head."
The slow scarlet welled into Lucy's face and her eyes grew shamed, but bravely
she kept facing her father.
"He--he pulled me off--he hugged me--he k-kissed me. . . . Oh, it was
dreadful--shameful! . . . Then I gave him back--some--something he had given
me. And I told him I--I hated him--and I told him, 'No!'"
"But you rode his hoss in the race," said Bostil.
Pages:
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351