"
He put Adonis, not at all unwillingly, to a trot, and they gained the
rough cattle-shed, and he would have lifted the girl down, but she was
too quick for him, and slipped gracefully and easily from the saddle.
Stafford, leading the horse, followed her into the shed. Bess sat on
the extreme end of her haunches shivering and blinking, and all too
plainly cursing the British climate; but Donald threw himself down
outside as if he regarded the deluge as a cheap shower-bath.
Stafford looked at Ida anxiously.
"You are fearfully wet," he said. "I think I could wipe off the worst
of it, if you'll let me."
He took out his pocket handkerchief as he spoke and wiped the rain from
her straight, beautifully moulded shoulders. She drew back a little and
opened her lips to protest at first, but with a slight shrug she
resigned herself, her eyes downcast, a faint colour in her face.
"I must be quite dry now," she said at last.
"I'm afraid not," said Stafford. "I wish I had something bigger--a
towel."
She laughed, the sweet girlish laugh which seemed to him the most
musical sound he had ever heard.
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