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But otherwise she was
far more like Watts. Her curly hair, her curvy mouth, the dimple, and
the contour of the face were his. Leonore D'Alloi was a far greater
beauty than her mother had ever been. But to Peter, it was merely a
renewal of his dream.
Just at this point the groom rode up. "Beg pardon, Miss D'Alloi," he
said, touching his cap. "My 'orse went down on a bit of hice."
"You are not hurt, Belden?" said Miss D'Alloi.
Peter thought the anxious tone heavenly. He rather wished he had broken
something himself.
"No. Nor the 'orse."
"Then it's all right. Mr. Stirling, we need not interrupt your ride.
Belden will see me home."
Belden see her home! Peter would see him do it! That was what Peter
thought. He said, "I shall ride with you, of course." So they started
their horses, the groom dropping behind.
"Do you want to try it again?" asked Mutineer of the roan.
"No," said the mare. "You are too big and strong."
Leonore was just saying: "I could hear the pound of a horse's feet
behind me, but I thought it was the groom, and knew he could never
overtake Fly-away.


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