--would not have missed those young fellows' admiration of her for
the world; though to take a lady amongst them was, in fact, against the
rules. It was not, then, till the second race was due to start that they
made their way into the paddock. Here the Derby horses were being led
solemnly, attended each by a little posse of persons, looking up their
legs and down their ribs to see whether they were worthy of support,
together with a few who liked to see a whole horse at a time. Presently
they found the animal which had been recommended to the Colonel. It
was a chestnut, with a starred forehead, parading in a far corner. The
Colonel, who really loved a horse, was deep in admiration. He liked
its head and he liked its hocks; above all, he liked its eye. A fine
creature, all sense and fire--perhaps just a little straight in the
shoulder for coming down the hill! And in the midst of his examination
he found himself staring at his niece. What breeding the child showed,
with her delicate arched brows, little ears, and fine, close nostrils;
and the way she moved--so sure and springy. She was too pretty to
suffer! A shame! If she hadn't been so pretty that young fellow wouldn't
have fallen in love with her. If she weren't so pretty--that husband
of hers wouldn't--! And the Colonel dropped his gaze, startled by the
discovery he had stumbled on. If she hadn't been so pretty! Was that the
meaning of it all? The cynicism of his own reflection struck him between
wind and water. And yet something in himself seemed to confirm it
somehow. What then? Was he to let them tear her in two between them,
destroying her, because she was so pretty? And somehow this discovery of
his--that passion springs from worship of beauty and warmth, of form and
colour--disturbed him horribly, for he had no habit of philosophy. The
thought seemed to him strangely crude, even immoral. That she should
be thus between two ravening desires--a bird between two hawks, a fruit
between two mouths! It was a way of looking at things that had never
before occurred to him. The idea of a husband clutching at his wife, the
idea of that young man who looked so gentle, swooping down on her;
and the idea that if she faded, lost her looks, went off, their greed,
indeed, any man's, would die away--all these horrible ideas hurt him the
more for the remarkable suddenness with which they had come to him. A
tragic business! Dolly had said so. Queer and quick--were women! But
his r