“This makes up,” she said gayly.

It was a leisurely meal; and when it had come to an end the memory of it was not the least of its delights.

The air had cooled decidedly, and meeting the stiff breeze Juanita Sterling shivered.  She turned up her coat collar about her neck.

“Are you cold?” he questioned.

“Not much.  I shall get used to it in a minute.  It was pretty warm in there.”

He stopped the car and jumped out.  “There are some light-weight robes somewhere,” he said.

“Don’t bother!” she protested.  “I rarely take cold.”

But he continued his search.

“There!” he said, putting it around her shoulders, “isn’t that better?”

“Delightful!  Thank you!” It was cozily warm and comfortable.

She drew a deep, happy breath.  The car skimmed along as if on wings.  She could meet the wind with pleasure now.  The stars twinkled down their glad greeting.  Probably she would never see the like of this again.  But to-night it was hers!  It should not be spoiled by Blanche Puddicombe!  She let her enjoyment have its way and talked and laughed freely.

“How can you keep so cheerful in the Dragon’s prison?” Nelson Randolph asked at length.  “I should think all of you would have been dead from gloom before this time.”

“Polly Dudley has done a great deal toward keeping us up, and we have several very bright ladies there.  Mrs. Albright and Miss Crilly would make a dungeon sunshiny.”

“Happy companionship is everything,” he assented.  “That is what I am denied.  My home is about the most desolate place on earth!”

“It looks delightful from the outside.”

“Oh, the house is well enough!  But what is the good of a house with nobody to speak to!  I stay at the club evening after evening, because I dread to go back to that lonely place I call home.”  He spoke drearily.  After a moment he went on.  “I started out this afternoon with a good deal of hope; but you have thrown most of it to the winds!”

“I?  Why, Mr. Randolph!” She gazed at him in surprise.

“Impolite,” he nodded, with an apologetic smile.  “But, Miss Sterling, you know that I love you!  You must have known it all summer!  And you try to be friendly—­that’s all!  You didn’t want to go to Bryston, and I was selfish enough to keep on!  I suppose it is too much to expect, that you will care for an old fellow like me; but—­oh, Miss Sterling! can’t you?”

For a moment memory was swept away in the flood of astonishment and joy that overwhelmed her.  Then, like a menace, the haughty girl of the sheep pasture loomed before her.

“Oh! no! no!” she gasped.  “Why do you say such things to me?—­you—­engaged to Blanche Puddicombe!”

“O-h!”—­It held a note of exultation.  “Has that absurd story reached you?  Miss Sterling, there is not an atom of truth in it!” The words tumbled from his lips.  “Mrs. Puddicombe’s grandmother and my grandfather were sister and brother.  The families have always been friendly.  Last summer Blanche was in such wretched health that her mother wanted me to take her to ride as often as I could.  So whenever I went off on business I would carry Blanche along.  That is all there is to it!”