"Prince," she said, smiling up at him, "you will get her, won't you?"
"Of course I will. You aren't worrying, are you?"
"Not since you got home," said Carol. "I know you will get her. I like
you, Prince."
"Do you?" He was boyishly pleased. "Does--does David?"
Carol laughed. "Yes, and so does Julia," she teased.
Prince laughed, too, shamefacedly, but he dared not ask, "Does Connie?"
He turned his horse quickly and paused to say, "You'd better get your
husband inside. He will chill in spite of the rugs. It is winter,
to-night. Good-by."
"He will get her," said Carol confidently, when she returned to David.
"He is nice, don't you think so? Maybe he would be perfectly all
right--in the city. Connie could straighten him out."
"Yes, brush off the dust, and give him an opera hat and a dinner coat and
he would not be half bad."
"He is not half bad now, only--not exactly our kind."
"Women are funny," said David slowly. "I believe Connie likes his kind,
just as he is, and would not have him changed for anything."
At first, Prince had no difficulty in following the wide roll of Connie's
wheels, for no other cars had gone that way. But once or twice he had to
drop from the saddle and examine the tracks closely to make sure of her.
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