Thronged by riders, the Row was all astir.

Near to Hyde Park Corner a figure by the rails caught Shelton’s eye.  Straight and thin, one shoulder humped a little, as if its owner were reflecting, clothed in a frock-coat and a brown felt hat pinched up in lawless fashion, this figure was so detached from its surroundings that it would have been noticeable anywhere.  It belonged to Ferrand, obviously waiting till it was time to breakfast with his patron.  Shelton found pleasure in thus observing him unseen, and sat quietly on his horse, hidden behind a tree.

It was just at that spot where riders, unable to get further, are for ever wheeling their horses for another turn; and there Ferrand, the bird of passage, with his head a little to one side, watched them cantering, trotting, wheeling up and down.

Three men walking along the rails were snatching off their hats before a horsewoman at exactly the same angle and with precisely the same air, as though in the modish performance of this ancient rite they were satisfying some instinct very dear to them.

Shelton noted the curl of Ferrand’s lip as he watched this sight.  “Many thanks, gentlemen,” it seemed to say; “in that charming little action you have shown me all your souls.”

What a singular gift the fellow had of divesting things and people of their garments, of tearing away their veil of shams, and their phylacteries!  Shelton turned and cantered on; his thoughts were with Antonia, and he did not want the glamour stripped away.

He was glancing at the sky, that every moment threatened to discharge a violent shower of rain, when suddenly he heard his name called from behind, and who should ride up to him on either side but Bill Dennant and—­Antonia herself!

They had been galloping; and she was flushed—­flushed as when she stood on the old tower at Hyeres, but with a joyful radiance different from the calm and conquering radiance of that other moment.  To Shelton’s delight they fell into line with him, and all three went galloping along the strip between the trees and rails.  The look she gave him seemed to say, “I don’t care if it is forbidden!” but she did not speak.  He could not take his eyes off her.  How lovely she looked, with the resolute curve of her figure, the glimpse of gold under her hat, the glorious colour in her cheeks, as if she had been kissed.

“It ’s so splendid to be at home!  Let ’s go faster, faster!” she cried out.

“Take a pull.  We shall get run in,” grumbled her brother, with a chuckle.

They reined in round the bend and jogged more soberly down on the far side; still not a word from her to Shelton, and Shelton in his turn spoke only to Bill Dennant.  He was afraid to speak to her, for he knew that her mind was dwelling on this chance forbidden meeting in a way quite different from his own.