He had put her in a false position, and
he had never explained to her why. Nor could she guess the
reason--for he was not a man to harvest credit for himself by
explaining his own chivalry.
Since her heart told her how glad she was he had come to her box
to see her, she greeted him with the coolest little nod in the
world.
"Good morning, Miss Messiter. May I sit beside y'u?" he asked.
"Oh, certainly!" She swept her skirts aside carelessly and made
room for him. "I thought you were going to ride soon."
"No, I ride last except for Sanford, the champion. My cousin
rides just before me. He's entered under the name of Jack
Holloway."
She was thinking that he had no business to be riding, that his
wounds were still too fresh, but she did not intend again to show
interest enough in his affairs to interfere even by suggestion.
Her heart had been in her mouth every moment of the time this
morning while he had been tossed hither and thither on the back
of his mount. In his delirium he had said he loved her. If he
did, why should he torture her so? It was well enough for sound
men to risk their lives, but--
A cheer swelled in the grand stand and died breathlessly away.
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