It was Blenavon, riding side by side with a lady who was a stranger to me.

Her figure was slim but elegant.
I caught a glimpse of her face as they flashed by, and it puzzled me.
Her hair was almost straw coloured, her complexion was negative, her features were certainly not good.

Yet there was something about her attractive, something which set me guessing at once as to the colour of her eyes, the quality of her voice, if she should speak.

Blenavon reined in his horse.
"So you have turned up, Angela," he remarked, looking at her a little nervously.

"You remember Mrs.Smith-Lessing, don't you--down at Bordighera, you know ?" Angela shook her head, but she never glanced towards the woman who sat there with expectant smile.
"I am afraid that I do not," she said.