Was she lumpy? The
idea had never struck him.
"Well, I'll do it, if I must," sighed Lady Valleys.
When after breakfast she entered Miltoun's 'den,' he was buckling on his
spurs preparatory, to riding out to some of the remoter villages. Under
the mask of the Apache chief, Bertie was standing, more inscrutable
and neat than ever, in a perfectly tied cravatte, perfectly cut riding
breeches, and boots worn and polished till a sooty glow shone through
their natural russet. Not specially dandified in his usual dress, Bertie
Caradoc would almost sooner have died than disgrace a horse. His eyes,
the sharper because they had only half the space of the ordinary eye to
glance from, at once took in the fact that his mother wished to be alone
with 'old Miltoun,' and he discreetly left the room.
That which disconcerted all who had dealings with Miltoun was the
discovery made soon or late, that they could not be sure how anything
would strike him. In his mind, as in his face, there was a certain
regularity, and then--impossible to say exactly where--it would, shoot
off and twist round a corner. This was the legacy no doubt of the
hard-bitten individuality, which had brought to the front so many of
his ancestors; for in Miltoun was the blood not only of the Caradocs and
Fitz-Harolds, but of most other prominent families in the kingdom,
all of whom, in those ages before money made the man, must have had a
forbear conspicuous by reason of qualities, not always fine, but always
poignant.
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