color that he knew to be subjective but that continually asserted the
illusion of reality.

He saw stallion and rider sink beneath the water, and rise again, a
flurry of foam and floundering of hoofs, and a woman's face that
laughed while she drowned her hair in the drowning mane of the beast.
And the first ringing bars of the Prelude sounded in his ears as again
he saw the same hands that had guided the stallion lift the piano to
all Rachmaninoff's pure splendor of sound.

And when Graham finally fell asleep, it was in the thick of marveling
over the processes of evolution that could produce from primeval mire
and dust the glowing, glorious flesh and spirit of woman.




CHAPTER XII



The next morning Graham learned further the ways of the Big House. Oh
My had partly initiated him in particular things the preceding day and
had learned that, after the waking cup of coffee, he preferred to
breakfast at table, rather than in bed. Also, Oh My had warned him
that breakfast at table was an irregular affair, anywhere between
seven and nine, and that the breakfasters merely drifted in at their
convenience. If he wanted a horse, or if he wanted a swim or a motor
car, or any ranch medium or utility he desired, Oh My informed him,
all he had to do was to call for it.