n, a
reminder of what he had to do. She had hurt. Oh, Lord! How she had hurt!
He experienced a hot desire to hurt back. The scar could only be healed,
he told himself, if some day he could strike at her beautiful,
contemptuous body as hard as she had just now struck at him.

II

He mounted and pressed his horse, but he had only one or two glimpses of
Sylvia, far ahead, using her spurs, from time to time raising her hand
as if she had forgotten that her crop had been torn from her, broken,
and thrown aside.

Such frantic haste was urged by more than the necessity of escape. What
then, if not to hasten his punishment, to tell her father, her mother,
and Lambert? She had threatened that someone else would have the
strength to give him a thrashing. Probably Lambert. Aside from that how
could they punish a man who had only committed the crime of letting a
girl know that he loved her? All at once he guessed, and he laughed
aloud. They could kick him out. He wanted, above everything else, to be
kicked out of a job where he was treated like a lackey, although he was
told he was nothing of the kind. Expert with horses, doing Old Planter a
favour for the summer! Hadn't she just called him a servant, a stable
boy? He wanted to put himself forever beyond the possibility of being
humiliated in just that way again.

In the stable he found a groom leading Sylvia's horse to a stall.

"Take mine, too, and rub him down, will you?"

The groom turned, staring.

"The nerve! What's up, George?"

"Only," George said, deliberately, "that I've touched my last horse for
money."

"Say! What goes on here? The young missus rides in like a cyclone, and
looking as if she'd been crying. I always said you'd get in trouble with
the boss's daughter. You're too good looking for the ladies,
Georgie----"

"That's enough of that," George snapped. "Scrape him down, and I'll be
much obliged."

He went out, knowing that the other would obey, for as a rule people did
what George wanted. He took a path through the park toward home, walking
slowly, commencing to appreciate the difficulties he had brought upon
himself. His predicament might easily involve his parents. The afternoon
was about done, they would both be there, unsuspecting. It was his duty
to prepare them. He experienced a bitter regret as he crossed the line
that a few months ago had divided their property, their castle, from
Oakmont. Now Old Planter could cross that line and drive th