"By jove, Trixie, you look like a boy in those togs! Glad to see you just the same. Fact is, I like you better that way. If you'd only been a boy, now … Can you get off alone, or shall I lend a hand?"
But she was ready for him today though her first emotion under the shock of his greeting was a distinct surge of resentment and disappointment. She nodded at him brightly, slipped from the saddle before he could come two steps toward her and said lightly:
"Here I am. You know we Corliss folk are very particular in the matter of keeping a promise; father once lost a lot of money, by dropping everything and going half across the continent to a wedding, simply because long before he had made a laughing promise to the groom. Who," she added in perfectly simulated carelessness and innocence, "was one of father's old negro servants."
Steele's sudden spontaneous laughter told her that he had not failed to understand.
"Good!" he chuckled. "Didn't think you had it in you, Trixie. Honest I didn't. Bet you've been shaping that speech up ever since you left the house!"
And here already was Beatrice Corliss blushing hotly. If she lived always she would always go on hating this impossible man more and more with every day. She had prepared her little speech, giving considerable thought to it on her way, desirous of insulting him as nicely as possible and yet clearly enough for him to be sure to catch the innuendo. And now it merely tickled him and afforded him an opportunity for further teasing.
