He winced a little under this at first; it kept him so much from Mary.

But there was some compensation.

Julia Clifford was a lady-like rider, and also a bold and skillful one.
The first time he rode with her he asked her beforehand what sort of a horse she would like.
"Oh, anything," said she, "that is not vicious nor slow." "A hack or a hunter ?" "Oh, a hunter, if I _may_." "Perhaps you will do me the honor to look at them and select." "You are very kind, and I will." He took her to the stables, and she selected a beautiful black mare, with a coat like satin.
"There," said Walter, despondingly.

"I was afraid you would fix on _her_.
She is impossible, I can't ride her myself." "Vicious ?" "Not in the least." "Well, then--" Here an old groom touched his hat, and said, curtly, "Too hot and fidgety, miss.

I'd as lieve ride of a boiling kettle." Walter explained: "The poor thing is the victim of nervousness." "Which I call them as rides her the victims," suggested the ancient groom.
"Be quiet, George.