She was dressed in a dark
grey riding-habit and wore a beaver cocked-hat.
"Good morning," he said, touching his cap with his crop. "I hope I
haven't kept you waiting."
"Only a moment." The truth is, she wanted to prove to him that there
was one woman who did not keep men waiting. "Shall I pick the going?"
"I'm afraid I've lost track of the good country roads."
"Follow me, then."
They walked their horses to the city limits. You never saw either of
them galloping over brick or asphalt, which quickly ruins the surest-
footed horse; neither did they permit any fox-trotting, which, while
it shows off a spirited horse, decreases his value in the ring. All of
which is to say, these two, like their mounts, were thoroughbreds.
"Where is Jove?" she asked presently.
"The rogue is missing. I dare say he is gallivanting around some
neighbor's back yard. I haven't laid eyes on him this morning. I
believe he realizes that he will see me frequently hereafter, and has
not bothered his head to look me up."
"Frequently?" She turned her head.
"Yes. I am coming home to live. Of course, this is my place of
residence; my voter's bed, as the politicians say, is here in
Herculaneum.
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