She had thought Brett purely brutal when she
had watched him force the frightened, flagging horse anew into a gallop,
but no man could be all brute to whom an animal would turn with such mute
confidence as the mare had shown when the struggle between them was over.
Behind Brett's careless courage, Ann recognised an insistent force and
dominance that frightened her. If he could be so invincibly determined to
subdue the will of a horse, how would it fare with any woman whom he had
made up his mind to conquer? Would his persistency at last beat down her
opposition? Or, if the woman's will were strong enough to resist him, would
the fight between them go on--endlessly? Somehow she could not imagine
Forrester laying down his weapons to admit defeat.
They were now approaching the big headland flanking Silverquay harbour,
and, as the waters of the bay came into view, Ann's eyes went instinctively
to the _Sphinx_, where she rode at anchor, specklessly clean and shining
in the brilliant sunlight. She had often admired the yacht, with her long,
graceful lines that promised speed, and on occasion, when she had steamed
out of the bay, Ann missed her from her accustomed anchorage--feeling
rather as though a bit of the landscape had vanished, leaving a gap.
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