perhaps.

Robin, poor beast, was well housed and well fed; but he worked for his
living as did his mistress. He was a grocer's delivery horse, worked from
Monday morning early till Saturday night at ten o'clock, subject to curses
and kicks from the grocery boy, expected to stand meekly at the
curbstones, snuffing the dusty brick pavements while the boy delivered a
box of goods, and while trolleys and beer-wagons and automobiles slammed
and rumbled and tooted by him, and then to start on the double-quick to
the next stopping-place.

He to be thus under the rod who had trod the plains with a free foot and
snuffed the mountain air! It was a great come-down, and his life became a
weariness to him. But he earned his mistress a dollar a week besides his
board. There would have been some consolation in that to his faithful
heart if he only could have known it. Albeit she would have gladly gone
without the dollar if Robin could have been free and happy.

One day, one dreadful day, the manager of the ten-cent store came to
Elizabeth with a look in his eyes that reminded her of the man in Montana
from whom she had fled. He was smiling, and his words were unduly
pleasant. He wanted her to go with him to the theatre that evening, and he
complimented her on her appearance. He stated that he admired her
exceedingly, and wanted to give her pleasure. But somehow Elizabeth had
fallen into the habit ever since she left the prairies of comparing all
men with George Trescott Benedict; and this man, although he dressed well,
and was every bit as handsome, did not compare well. There was a sinister,
selfish glitter in his eyes that made Elizabeth think of the serpent on
the plain just before she shot it. Therefore Elizabeth declined the
invitation.