"Since you will have it so, I'll not dispute with you. There is your horse; not a bad sort of animal—capital sport."
"Now pay me my hundred pounds!" said the owner, between his clenched teeth.
"You said just now that you hadn't sold me the horse. There is your horse, and here is the name of my solicitors, if you want to go to law with me."
"Law with you! I'll give you law!" and letting go the horse, that immediately began to browse, he rushed at Mike, his whip in the air.
Mike fought, his long legs wide apart, his long arms going like lightning, straight from the shoulder, scattering blood over necktie and collar; and presently the man withdrew, cursing Mike for an Irish horse-stealer.
"I never heard of such a thing!" said Frank. "You got on his horse and rode away, leaving him standing on the outside of the cover."
"Yes," shouted Mike, delighted with his exploit; "I felt I must go after the hounds."
"Yes, but to go away with the man's horse!"
"My dear fellow, why not? Those are the things that other fellows think of doing but don't do. An excitement like that is worth anything."
While waiting for Lily's answer, Mike finished the last chapter of his book, and handed the manuscript to Frank. Between the sentences he had speculated on the state of soul his letter would produce in her, and had imagined various answers. "Darling, how good of you! I did not know you loved me so well." She would write, "Your letter surprised me, but then you always surprise me. I can promise you nothing; but you may come and see me next Thursday." She would write at once, of that there could be no doubt; such letters were always answered at once. He watched the postman and the clock; every double knock made tumult in his heart; and in his stimulated perceptions he saw the well-remembered writing as if it lay under his eyes. And the many communications he received during those days whetted the edge of his thirst, and aggravated the fever that floated in his brain.