The saddle creaked and the bit jangled and George's arm tightened round her. Though she did not like his nearness, she leaned closer for safety, and he and the horse seemed to be one animal, strong and swift and merciless. Once or twice she gasped, "Please, George, not quite so fast," but the centaur paid no heed. She shut her eyes because she did not like to see the darkness sliding under them as they passed, and they seemed to be galloping into a blackness that was empty and unending. Her hands clutched the arm that fenced her breasts: her breath came quickly, exhilaration was mixed with fear, and now she was part of the joint body that carried her and held her. She hardly knew when the pace had slackened; she was benumbed with new sensations, darkness, speed and strength. She had forgotten that this was a man she leaned against. Then the horse stood still and she felt Halkett's face near hers, his breath on her cheeks, a new pressure of his arm and, unable to endure this different nearness, she gave his binding hand a sharp blow with her knuckles, jerked her head backwards against his and escaped his grasp; but she had to fall to do it, and from the ground she heard his chuckle as he looked down at her. At that moment she would have killed him gladly; she felt her body soiled by his, but her mind was curiously untouched. It knew no disgust for his desire nor for her folly, and while she hated him for sitting there and laughing at her fall, this was still a game she loved and meant to play. In the heather she sat and glowered at him, but now she could hardly see his face. "That was a silly thing to do," she heard him say. "You might easily have been kicked. What did you do it for?" She would not own her knowledge of his real offence, and she muttered angrily, "Galloping like that--" "Didn't you like it? He's as steady as a rock." "How could I know that?" "And I thought you had some pluck." "I have. I sat quite still." Again he laughed. "I made you." "Oh," she burst out. "I'll never trust you again." "You would if you knew--if you knew--but never mind. I wanted to see you on a horse. You shall have him to yourself next time. I'll get a side saddle." "I don't want one," she said. "Oh, yes, you do. Let me help you up. Say you forgive me." With her hand in his she murmured, "But you are always doing something. And my head aches." "Does it? I'm sorry. What made it ache?" "It--I--I bumped myself when I fell." "Poor little head! It was silly of you, wasn't it? Let me put you on his back again, and I'll walk you slowly home."