More yelps ensued, mingled with snarls and vicious oaths, then around the corner of the house they came--the dog which had stood in her path, with Devil Marston in hot pursuit. Plainly the dog had trespassed in a most unwarrantable manner, for between his strong jaws was a roast of beef, which thus far he had refused to deliver to its owner. Its pursuer was armed with a heavy cudgel, and he did not temper his blows with either mercy or judgment. In this wise they swept into view, the dog but slightly in advance of the man, who was swinging his bludgeon to an accompaniment of awful curses. It happened that Julia was facing this spectacle, and its presentation made her weak and faint for the moment. Never had her tender ears listened to such words before as fell from the lips of this man. His swarthy face was working and twitching from the volcano-like violence of his rage, and his fangs showed even as did the beast's he was pursuing. The sudden and altogether unexpected appearance of Miss Julia Dudley before his door, mounted upon The Prince, was not sufficient to calm on the instant his superlative passion, which at times almost amounted to a fit, or frenzy. It is true he stopped short in his mad rush, but before he could bring himself to any degree of control he hurled the cudgel in his hand after the fleeing hound with all his strength, at the same moment delivering a half smothered, parting malediction. Julia sat like a stone statue upon The Prince, which had shied violently at first, and in a way which would have unseated a less skillful rider. Her head was up, her brows slightly contracted, and her fine eyes set straight at the being who now walked towards her, his hat in his hand. By a superhuman effort of will Marston had composed his features, and as he halted a little to one side of The Prince's head, he was smiling, if the incongruous facial expression he now assumed could be designated that way. "Good morning, Miss Julia," he said. The covert insolence in his voice was thinly veiled by a respectful intonation. "Good morning, Mr. Marston." Julia was surprised at the steady tones in which she responded to his salutation. She had feared a quiver would run through the words. "I believe an apology is due you," resumed Marston, "before I inquire the cause of this visit. I'm glad to see you, you know." He paused a moment to gloat openly over her face and figure. The girl felt herself grow colder before his bold gaze, but said nothing. "That da--that dog was called to his breakfast, and took a fancy to my dinner, which was on a shelf near. Of course I tried to get it away from him, and in the chase we ran into you. But I haven't welcomed you to my home yet; shake hands with me!" He advanced to her side and held up his hand.