CHAPTER I. Stonily he had disengaged himself. At the opening of the van doors and the emergence into the fresh air Ann Veronica’s doubt and depression gave place to the wildest exhilaration. The command was sullenly obeyed, for the fellow did not appear to relish the rating. The decision had been sound. He may die. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. Perhaps that is why I lost my ambition. She drank it obediently. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. I have neither father, mother, brother, sister, nor husband—I have only him.
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