Guy started to his feet. The old pitiless fire
shone in his eyes; the old stern look settled around his mouth.
Seizing the mare by the tail and mane he threw her over the wall.
She landed twenty feet on the other side, erect and trembling.
Lightly leaping the same obstacle himself, he remounted her. She
did not refuse the wall the next time.
CHAPTER IV.
"He holds him by his glittering eye."
Guy was in the North of Ireland, cock-shooting. So Ralph Mortmain
told me, and also that the match between Mary Brandagee and Guy had
been broken off by Flora Billingsgate. "I don't like those
Billingsgates," said Ralph, "they're a bad stock. Her father,
Smithfield de Billingsgate, had an unpleasant way of turning up the
knave from the bottom of the pack. But nous verrons; let us go and
see Guy."
The next morning we started for Fin-ma-Coul's Crossing. When I
reached the shooting-box, where Guy was entertaining a select
company of friends, Flora Billingsgate greeted me with a saucy
smile.
Guy was even squarer and sterner than ever. His gusts of passion
were more frequent, and it was with difficulty that he could keep
an able-bodied servant in his family.
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