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Rh had forgotten Jensen. She had forgotten her half promise to Frank Hallett. She had forgotten to ask herself whether or not she could ever love him. She only knew that she was happy, and that the air was sweet, and that Blake looked at her in a way in which no one else had ever looked. There was a grassy track—once the path for water carts in primitive days, before the erection of the grand pump.

The Outlaw bounded forward.

"Oh, let us have one canter along here," Elsie cried. "I want to try the Outlaw. One canter by the creek. Come, Mr. Blake."

She rode on, shaking the reins, and patting the animal's sleek neck, as he danced and curvetted. She looked back at Blake, and laughed like a child. How beautiful she was, and how splendid she rode! They rode on away from the crowd, cantering, almost galloping, always fast, fast, clearing the little logs and gullies in the way, all along the home paddock and never pulling up till they were at least two miles from the station.

"What will they think?" she said, reining the Outlaw. "Oh, what a glorious spin! Tell me, aren't you happy when you are going fast like that?"

"Do you call that fast?" he said. "Ah, you should know what it is to ride for one's life."

"Have you ever ridden for your life?" she asked, suddenly becoming serious.

"Yes," he answered, "and I have enjoyed it as I have never enjoyed anything in the world. Oh, to feel that your life—your very life—all the glory and beauty of this glorious and beautiful world—all the past, and the present, and the future—ambition, hope, a Cause perhaps—all depending on the speed of an animal and lying in the mad rush forwards! There's a wild sense of irresponsibility about a moment like that which I can't describe—can't give you the feeblest idea of. Your will seems to have got outside you, and to be in the night, and the trees, and the free birds and beasts. Every nerve is strung to an excitement which is rapture. It's the very essence of the joy of life."