"Too small and too light. They can't hold things."
"Well, they've managed to hold one at any rate," I responded gaily, though I added seriously the minute afterward, "If you'll let me sell that horse, darling, I'll give you anything on God's earth that you want."
"But suppose I don't want anything on God's earth except that horse?"
"There's no sense in that," I blurted out, in bewilderment. "What in thunder is there about the brute that has so taken your fancy?"
Her hand fell from the curtain, and plucking a single blossom of sweet alyssum, she came back to the hearth holding it to her lips.
"He has taken my fancy," she replied, "because he is exciting—and I am craving excitement."
"But you never used to want excitement."
"People change, all the poets and philosophers tell us. I've wanted it very badly indeed for the last six or eight months."
"Just since we've recovered our money?"
"Well, one can't have excitement without money, can one? It costs a good deal. Beauchamp sold for sixteen hundred dollars."