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 giving a bowed contour displeasing to the eye. The hand not on the bridle hung almost to the knee.

A deep voice rumbled up from the drive. "Good morning, Giles— Look out! Don't get too near that brute, my dear fellow; he's an ugly one to all but myself—Yes, a stallion. Let me ride him to the stables myself—He has already killed one groom." He laid one hand on the pommel and raised himself, rather than vaulted, to the saddle. Strong as was the horse his back appeared to sag. He moved slowly down the drive, Giles walking on the turf at one side. They turned a bend and the tall hedge hid them from view. Virginia turned at the sound of some one entering the room.

"The Ethiopian Giant!" exclaimed Lady Maltby, for it was she. "My dear, did you ever see such a sight in all your life? There is a face to haunt one's dreams! Fancy what it must be when he is enraged!"

Virginia stared out across the lawn. "I should like to see him in an amphitheater," she answered abstractedly, "fighting a lion with his bare hands. I suppose that he is the kind they bred for the arena—except that the gladiators were slaves, and this man is sleek and does not look as if he had ever worked with his hands—" She laughed nervously.

"Giles says that he is inclined to be luxurious," replied Lady Maltby, "that is, fond of comforts. Fancy him lolling on a divan among silken cushions of bleu tendre while a French valet de chambre "

"Oh, don't!" protested Virginia. "Horrible! it couldn't be so! It would be too terrible! It would not be so bad if he were lounging on a couch of flaming scarlet, in a room hung with portières of clashing discords, 58