Mr. Jerrold and Hobbs were leaning against a gate watching a stableman breaking in a colt in the paddock before them. Mr. Jerrold watched with an almost tender smile, the awkward, yet delicate movements of the beautiful young creature, so wistfully bewildered, so unconscious of its great strength. The hard, light eyes of Hobbs seemed only to appraise its fine points as that of something to be bought, sold, or put to tests of endurance or speed.
"Don't overdo it," called Mr. Jerrold. "That's enough for today."
Hobbs showed disapproval. "You stop the training," he said, "just as she's getting into the swing of it."
"I understand breaking in colts, I think. I don't want her worried."
"Oh, well, it's for you to say."
"Yes, it's for me to say—yet."
They stood in silence as the stableman led away the colt, then Hobbs said, cheerfully,
"Things are going from bad to worse at Grimstone, they say."
Mr. Jerrold turned to him anxiously. "In what way, Hobbs? I have scarcely seen anything of Vale since his marriage—seven or eight weeks ago, isn't it? He seems to want to be let alone."
"The trouble with him," said Hobbs, "is that he was too damned cock-a-hoop in the first place. He was so proud
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