He flashed her a sidelong glance, the long white fingers of his right hand toying thoughtfully with a ringlet of the dark brown hair that fell upon the shoulders of his scarlet coat.
"Surely, madam," he answered dryly, "what concerns a man may well concern his wife." She bowed her head, her eyes upon the road before her.

"True," said she, her voice expressionless.

"I had forgot." He reined in and turned to look at her; her horse moved on a pace or two, then came to a halt, apparently of its own accord.
"I do protest," said he, "you treat me less kindly than I deserve." He urged his mare forward until he had come up with her again, and then drew rein once more.

"I think that I may lay some claim to--at least--your gratitude for what I did to-day." "It is my inclination to be grateful," said she.

She was very wary of him.