The grey lashed out with vicious haste, but that very haste spoiled his aim.

His heels whipped over the shoulder of his master as the latter scooped up the child and sprang away.

Marianne, grown sick, steadied herself against the side of the window; she had seen the brightness of steel on the driving hoofs.
A hasty group formed.

The stable boy was guiltily leading the horse through the door and around the gaudy rider came the old man, and a woman who had run from a neighboring porch, and a long-moustached giant.
But all that Marianne distinctly saw was the white, set face of the rescuer as he soothed the child in his arms; in a moment it had stopped crying and the woman received it.

It was the old man who uttered the thought of Marianne.
"That was cool, young feller, and darned quick, and a nervy thing as I ever seen." "Tut!" said the other, but the girl thought that his smile was a little forced.