him!"

"This is a ridiculous fancy of yours, Honora. The horse is all right.
I've ridden dozens of worse ones."

"Oh, I'm sure he isn't," she cried; "call it fancy, call it instinct,
call it anything you like--but I feel it, Hugh. That woman--Mrs.
Rindge--knows something about horses, and she said he was a brute."

"Yes," he interrupted, with a short laugh, "and she wants to ride him."

"Hugh, she's reckless. I--I've been watching her since she came here, and
I'm sure she's reckless with--with a purpose."

"You're morbid," he said. "She's one of the best sportswomen in the
country--that's the reason she wanted to ride the horse. Look here,
Honora, I'd accede to any reasonable request. But what do you expect me
to do?" he demanded; "go down and say I'm afraid to ride him? or that my
wife doesn't want me to? I'd never hear the end of it. And the first
thing Adele would do would be to jump on him herself--a little wisp of a
woman that looks as if she couldn't hold a Shetland pony! Can't you see
that what you ask is impossible?"

He started for the door to terminate a conversation which had already
begun to irritate him. For his anger, in these days, was very near the
surface. She made one more desperate appeal.

"Hugh--the man who sold him--he knew the horse was dangerous. I'm sure he
did, from something he said to me while you were gone."

"These country people are all idiots and cowards," declared Chiltern.
"I've known 'em a good while, and they haven't got the spirit of mongrel
dogs. I was a fool to think that I could do anything for them. They're
kind and neighbourly, aren't they?" he exclaimed. "If that old rascal
flattered himself he deceived me, he was mistaken. He'd have been
mightily pleased if the beast had broken my neck."

"Hugh!"

"I can't, Honora. That's all there is to it, I can't. Now don't cut up
about nothing. I'm sorry, but I've got to go. Adele's waiting."

He came back, kissed her hurriedly, turned and opened the door. She
followed him into the hallway, knowing that she had failed, knowing that
she never could have succeeded. There she halted and watched him go down
the stairs, and stand with her hands tightly pressed together: voices
reached her, a hurrah from George Pembroke, and the pounding of hoofs on
the driveway. It had seemed such a little thing to ask!

But she did not dwell upon this, now, when fear was gnawing her: how she
had humbled her pride for days and weeks and months for